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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643743">Two Matrices</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime'>AndromedaPrime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Post-War, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings, mention of past miscarriage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:55:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>56,542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25643743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sensing an end to the millenia-long conflict, the Matrices of Leadership, one each borne by Megatron and Optimus Prime, are up to some shenanigans. </p><p>Contains spoilers for the third season of Cyberverse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bumblebee/Windblade (Transformers), Megatron/Optimus Prime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>254</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tryst</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jetfire was getting on what remained of his second-to-last nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a prior commitment, one that he couldn’t quite fess up to, so Optimus just politely stood where he was and screamed inside his spark as Jetfire continued to inundate him with a multitude of questions that could be easily answered </span>
  <em>
    <span>if the mech just used a bit of context and common sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checked his internal chronometer. If he extricated himself from this hostage situation within a few kliks, he could still make it on time and not make Megatron think that he was flaking out. That was truly the last thing that he needed for the other mech to think. For all he knew, it would undo all the progress they’d made on a personal level over the past couple of decacycles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-color should the clinic be painted? I distinctly remember prior to the exodus, it had been painted a silver and navy hue, and I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jetfire,” Optimus said gently, keeping his facial expression as even as he could, “you have just answered your question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took the shuttle a moment of thought before he responded, “What, silver and navy? But shouldn’t we add some more… color to it, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will leave that up to you, Jetfire. I trust your judgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pensive look came over Jetfire’s face, and then one of his wings twitched. “White undertones should do it!” Then he bolted out of the open room, seemingly quite pleased with himself. Optimus waited for a moment, sighing, and then turned around-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To run right into Arcee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Optimus!” She smiled brightly at him and thrust datapads at him, which he caught in his arms before he could realize what he was doing. “These all need your review.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rifled through the stack that she’d given him and raised an optic ridge. “Arcee… what are these, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you remember? It’s the comparison of prices for off-world suppliers that could help us continue reconstruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Yes, Optimus vaguely remembered, but reviewing these datapads would take quite a bit of time. Time that he could be using to drive to the border. Drive to the border, the border wall that separated the halves of the planet that he and Megatron took charge of to rebuild. That same border wall that he had to simply cross, and he’d spend the first night in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> long time with his beloved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grit his dentae for a moment and then asked hesitantly, “By when would you like these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, the sooner the better, but if-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am… not feeling very well, and I need to go. It is getting late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arcee immediately grabbed the datapads back. “Well if only you’d said something sooner! Are you okay? Do you need someone to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can take myself back to my quarters. I will be fine.” He smiled at her. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Arcee could ask another question, he took on his vehicular mode and drove off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The private shuttle quietly hummed as its systems shut down, settling into its hiding place among the mountains, just beyond the wall that separated the Autobot and Decepticon halves of Cybertron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron leaned back in the pilot’s seat, stretching and blinking his optic, and watched the night sky darken and more and more stars pop out of the fabric of space and time, light from millions of stellar cycles long past shining down on him. Ever since Optimus had first taken him to see the stars on their - was it their second date? Third? He didn’t remember much now - he had been amazed at how the light of these stars that were now possibly gone were still shining their guiding light on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered that date, though of course not in the numerical sequence, as many of them just blended together. He remembered Optimus looking up at the night sky and his bright optics as he talked excitedly about the lifespan of the stars, and how said stars were so bright that he saw their reflection on his beloved’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Millions of stellar cycles had passed. He wondered if those stars that had left a fleeting imprint on Optimus’s face were still around. How many were around, how many had flickered out of existence, and how many had been replaced by new stars, born out of the fire and ashes left behind by their ancestors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The proximity sensor in the shuttle beeped at him, startling him out of his deep thought. He straightened up in his pilot’s seat and brought the holographic screen up, watching the subject of the alarm gain on him. He smiled, disengaged the alarm, and shut the screen off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, a communication request pinged at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::I had wondered when you would show:: he said, not giving Optimus a chance to speak first. ::You’re quite late. I was wondering if you were going to show at all::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an irritated huff on the other side of the link. ::Jetfire and Arcee had a number of questions. It’s a miracle I even arrived at this time::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron chuckled. Were it him being bombarded with questions, he would have ordered them to shut up and figure it out for themselves. There was a reason he loved his Prime this much - he was the goodness that Megatron liked to think he could be, had he had a better start in life than what the universe had given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Were you followed?:: he pinged at Optimus as he looked outside and watched the vehicular form of his dearly beloved approach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a light grumble from Optimus’s end, followed by an exasperated sigh. ::I would not have continued here if I were being followed::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron opened the entrance to the shuttle and walked down, watching Optimus get closer and closer, standing with his servos to his hips and smirking fondly as Optimus came to a stop and took on his bipedal mode. Those incredibly bright blue optics blinked as Optimus reoriented himself to his new surroundings, and Megatron felt a little part of his spark twinge at the sight, at how </span>
  <em>
    <span>innocent</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Prime looked, even all these millions of stellar cycles later on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both mechs stood there for a little while, facing the other. Then Megatron broke the silence, smiling. “I’m glad you decided to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked at him with an affectionate expression that - still, not that Megatron blamed him - was tinged with apprehension. “I still have my doubts. Don’t give me a reason to turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron gave the best flirtatious smile he could muster. “I don’t plan on trying to end you, or restart the war, if that furthers your conviction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a flicker of something cross Optimus’s face - he wasn’t sure what, exactly. Then Optimus sighed and drew closer. “It does, if only slightly.” Then he smiled at him. “I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment both of them were in the safe confines of the shuttle and the door had shut behind them, he was on Megatron, pushing the mech against the nearest wall and pressing his lipplates against Megatron’s in a desperate attempt for reconnection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so, so long. The nights he was alone during the war and wished for nothing but the warm frame of his beloved by him, those nights that he remembered them and their frames locked in passionate dance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Optimus, and Optimus just pressed closer, as if trying to merge their very frames together. He gasped as Megatron’s servo groped his aft and then pulled back, mouth slightly agape as his cooling fans kicked on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you think of me,” he panted desperately, locking optics with Megatron’s heated red ones, “during those nights you were alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Decepticon’s optics were brighter than stars as he looked at him with a heady gaze. He nodded. “I thought of you each and every night. Primus, how I spent them wishing you were with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus kissed him again, and this time it was Megatron that hoisted him up in his arms and carted him to the back of the shuttle, where there was a berth just big enough for the both of them, and a window that let the moon and starlight stream through. Feeling his back hit the berth, Optimus parted his legs and let Megatron slot between them, arching his hips upward and grabbing tightly at Megatron’s back as they kissed again and again. He felt Megatron’s servos roam over his sides, his digits leaving blazing fire in their wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a klik, they parted, and Optimus looked up and gave a soft, open-mouthed smile at the mech looking at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron stared down with his one good optic, then smiled and caressed the line of his jaw before moving in a downwards fashion over his neck and chassis and abdomen before arriving at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> warm surface of his interface panel. His partner’s laugh sent pleasant little vibrations to his thighs and up his spinal strut, straight to his spark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to open for me, Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime lifted his helm, looking at his lover between his thighs, and made a little noise of contemplation, savoring the impatient noise that Megatron made as he pawed at the panel. Optimus decided to do the other mech a small mercy, and let his panel disengage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron was immediately on him, much like famished cyberflies on sweet energon on a hot day. Optimus pressed his thighs against Megatron’s helm and reached down, stroking the top of his helm as he leaned back and sighed quietly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. How he’d forgotten how insanely adept Megatron was with that glossa, how adept he was at both his speeches and at the art of pleasuring a lover. He caressed the top of Megatron’s helm that was moving so slightly between his thighs, bobbing as he eagerly ate him out, top row of dentae scraping against his swollen anterior node as his glossa lapped at the rim and then the inside of his valve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus flexed his calipers, and gave a breathless laugh when Megatron moaned and pressed harder against his array. He felt Megatron slip his servos underneath his thighs and hitch his hips up a little bit more, allowing him better access and deepening just how </span>
  <em>
    <span>thoroughly</span>
  </em>
  <span> Megatron could get into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fire licked up his neural net, lifting him to a higher plane where he had no worries, no commitments, no Autobots to take care of and guide. All he could think of was the strong servos holding onto him, and the intense sensations that the mech between his thighs gave him, licking deeply into him, purring at the taste as if his lubricants were the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, the true secret to eternity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his spark quiver, shaking in anticipation of the feeling he’d not had in so very long. Optimus arched his hips further into Megatron’s demanding mouth, and the mech pulled back and closed his lips around the pert node, looking up at him with his one optic and sucking hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then that did it. Optimus gasped and bucked his hips into Megatron’s face as he felt his release spill out of him, soaking Megatron’s face and the insides of his thighs. Megatron moaned into him, the vibrations of his blasted and deep voice as Optimus rode his face with fervor just intensifying the sensations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a second, smaller but still intense overload right afterwards, and then everything was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Optimus gasped as the second overload lifted and cleared his processor, and he looked down at the mech between his legs and smiled hazily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron laughed and rose up - oh, right, the mess </span>
  <em>
    <span>all over his front</span>
  </em>
  <span> reminded Optimus that he had that tendency to release excess fluid. The mech wiped the mess off of his faceplate and then kissed Optimus, and Optimus could taste himself on Megatron’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought revved him up more than he remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron pulled back and smirked. “Remember that night we’d discovered that little trick of yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus lightly shoved Megatron, but then admitted, “Yes. How could I ever forget?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Millions of stellar-cycles were far too long to go without seeing it. Indulge me a second time, hmm?” The red in his optic sparkled, and Optimus found himself very much unable to refuse. He leaned up and kissed Megatron back, and then tried to flip them over, but Megatron caught him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a bit of a tussle that both thoroughly enjoyed, but Optimus came out the other end as the winner; he pinned the other mech down, coaxing his spike to fullness again and immediately impaled himself on it, groaning as his sensors fired up and sent little signals of pleasure directly to his processor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been so long. The false spikes he’d held onto during the very long time alone had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the physical sensation of this actual spike that he’d craved for so long, moving within him as Megatron put his servos on his hips and began thrusting. Optimus rolled his hips, taking his lover’s spike as deep as it could go, leaning his helm back and moaning salaciously as he dipped down, rolled, and then slid up the length of that spike so only the tip remained inside him. He watched the intensely predatory look in Megatron’s optics turn into one of pleading, and he took mercy on the mech and dipped down again, arrays pressing together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he stayed there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you intend on driving me mad again?” Megatron hissed as he tried to buck up, but Optimus leaned over, placing an arm on each side of the mech below him and pressing down harder so make movement all the more difficult. “Get on with it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beg me,” Optimus said, smirking, holding back laughter, and how he remembered that he never would have done this eons ago. “Beg me for release.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You blasted-!” Megatron exclaimed but then Optimus squeezed his calipers and cut the mech off in the middle of his curse. “Oh, please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know well what I mean, don’t make me beg-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus squeezed around him and then resumed his pace of down, roll hips, then slide up and slam back down, increasing the pace and watching Megatron go wild underneath him, begging like he refused to beg, trying to roll up into Optimus. The sound of their plating colliding echoed in the shuttle, and eventually Optimus managed to tip Megatron over, watching him arch and roar in release.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, he followed, overload taking him before the smaller one swept him up again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he woke, he checked his chronometer and found he’d been asleep for about a cycle. Not very long, quite thankfully - he would have to leave soon, much as the thought pained him. He wasn’t very eager to leave, alone. It seemed that Megatron had cleaned him up as well - he didn’t remember cleaning up the remnants of their interface.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus adjusted his optics to the darkness of the shuttle, turning his gaze to his left and seeing the curled up form of Megatron to his side. He’d slept on his back but during the night had moved a little, not quite curled to his side but definitely not in the stick-straight position he’d been in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron, however, had curled into him immediately, resting his helm on his shoulder strut. There he stayed, attached, a lump of gray. Optimus thought it sweet that he’d wanted to touch him, even in their recharge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was like it had been before. Those nights they spent together in his apartment in Iacon, overlooking the city. Optimus remembered smiling at Megatron as he gaped in awe at the sight from his windows at night, how bright the lights were that they rivaled the intensity of the stars above. And then those nights they’d spent in Megatron’s quarters in Kaon, lights low at night to conserve energy and how Optimus excitedly pointed out the fainter stars that the lights of Iacon outshone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How they would engage with each other, intimately, commit each bit of the other’s frame to memory, and then spend countless cycles wrapped up in the other. Megatron would normally sleep first - how he loved his recharge when he could get it, as it had been a luxury when he worked in the mines - and Optimus would lay there and watch his optic covers and the lines of his face twitch and move, and he would wonder what his beloved would dream of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t seen Megatron look so peaceful in so long. To be so vulnerable, curled into the mech that he’d hated for so long and then loved for long before that, was something that took so much trust, trust that Megatron… still had in him, from the looks of it. The thought of his enemy still loving him so much that he trusted him made Optimus’s spark clench tightly in affection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optics focusing on Megatron’s face, he noted all the changes. Color of the helm piece, some of his angles were far sharper, and the most obvious of the differences was, of course, the missing optic. Optimus reached a servo over, cupping the side of Megatron’s helm and looking intently at the space where it used to be. He pressed his thumb a little bit closer - not over the opening - that would be grotesque and the thought of doing so sent a nasty shiver up his spinal strut - but rather settling the digit on the perimeter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A myriad of questions passed through his processor. What happened? How? Did it hurt then, and did it hurt now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron stirred, and his good optic opened, a point of red light. Optimus pulled his servo away quickly and smiled gently at his berthmate. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just… I couldn’t help-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Megatron said a little groggily. Then, almost as if he’d heard the questions percolating through Optimus’s processor, he gave a small grin. “It still hurts at times. Less so than when I initially lost it.” His servo twitched and motioned like he was about to touch the space where his optic once was, but he held back. “Phantom pain, I believe it’s called. It does wake me up sometimes.” He paused and then chuckled. “But this was a far better way to wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus resisted the urge to lightly slap Megatron’s chassis, and then reached out and stroked along Megatron’s face again, tracing the angles of the side of his helm. “How did it happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look came over Megatron’s optic and he closed it. Just as Optimus was about to apologize and say that he shouldn’t have asked, Megatron replied. “There was a battle on the other side. A hook was involved.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus flinched at the blunt description, and held his servo down as he was tempted to raise his own servo and check to make sure both of his optics were still there. He nodded. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s done has been done. I’ve adapted to the lack of it.” Megatron in turn reached out and cupped Optimus’s face, and Optimus leaned into the gentle touch. “So long as I have one optic to see your face with, that is all I could want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Optimus said lightly, smiling all the way as he leaned in and kissed his beloved. “But I appreciate the effort.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It worked,” Megatron purred, smirking. “Don’t lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment of pause, and then Optimus replied. “I would have jumped on you if you’d said that to me a lifetime ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron made a noise of self-satisfaction and then pulled Optimus into his embrace this time, the Prime sprawling a bit on the broad expanse of the Decepticon’s chassis. Optimus bunted his helm against Megatron’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both mechs lay together, curled up and watching the stars move in the window overhead. It had been so long that stars had come and gone, and Optimus was sure he could somewhat recognize stars, but without other, long-gone stars to give him an idea, he wasn’t so sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a quiet rumble from Megatron. Optimus turned his helm to look at the grey mech, who looked at him and gave a forlorn smile. “I wish we could have this all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. This discussion again. Optimus smiled and pressed his helm crest against the front of Megatron’s helm. “We still could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron gave a bitter laugh. “My army would have many things to say about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As would mine,” Optimus countered. “But, as with any situation, they can adapt. Just as we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another moment of silence as Megatron stared at him. Optimus didn’t want to hope for very much - he’d been disappointed multiple times throughout the war, after all, as much as it did pain him to admit it. He traced a circle on Megatron’s chassis, branching it out into multiple swirls and circles, nonsensical patterns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it were up to me entirely, I’d give you a sparkfelt yes. How much I’ve wanted to be with you since the beginning, my library clerk.” His optic twinkled lightly, then the light faded as reality and gravity of the situation set in. “But I have to consider my army as well, as much as they aggravate every line in my frame. How can I change them all on a whim when all they think of doing is shooting at any of your Autobots if they cross the border? When all they’ve known is to attack and fight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus set his lipplates in a firm line and raised himself up, glaring down at Megatron. “What stopped you from shooting me when I crossed the border?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron stayed quiet and simply looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We agreed to a truce,” Optimus said in a quiet tone. “A truce could go either way. We could delve back into a war that will continue to cost us more and more, or we can reconcile completely and rebuild, together.” Optimus softened his glare and then sighed. “I don’t expect an answer right now. But, just like you… I would like to have this. All the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron said nothing, only pulling him close and kissing him before switching their positions on the berth so Optimus was below him. One of those dark digits traced down the seam of his chassis, and Optimus immediately knew what he wanted. Feeling his systems kick back online, Optimus opened his chassis, watching as the Matrix shifted aside to reveal his spark, then looked into the ravenous optics of his lover above him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Megatron’s own chassis parted, the Matrix from the other universe shifting to show his spark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus grabbed Megatron, and pulled their chests together, letting the light of their Matrices and their sparks blind him before he was overwhelmed by overload.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some time has passed since I've last posted anything. Still currently in a COVID hotspot in Texas, working from home, going out on average twice a week to do curbside pickups or for doctor appointments. I have withdrawn from my graduate studies for the next year due to safety concerns with universities wanting to try face-to-face classes. It's a rough time for most of us, if not all of us.</p><p>This fic is perhaps a bit of an experiment - I am by nature an architect writer where I prefer to have the entire fic plotted in specific detail before I start writing and posting. In this instance, I know the beginning and the end very concretely... but the middle is still being toyed with.</p><p>Tags will certainly be updated as the story progresses, but for now this is what I am starting off with.</p><p>I will do my best to update soon, but as always, can make no promises. Any feedback and kudos are greatly appreciated &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Revelation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Optimus watched the sun crawl closer and closer to the horizon out of the window, the sky turning darker with each klik that passed. In the distance, an explosion here and there. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Communications from Prowl filtered through still. Telling him of any casualties or injuries, property lost by them to the Decepticions, or gained by them. Recently, there had been more losses than there were gains where the Autobots were concerned. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His processor turned away from thought of the battles going on in the distance. Any moment and his friend would call him to the back, a private room to repeat a procedure he’d done on countless other Autobots. Now, it was Optimus’s turn. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He put a servo over his middle. No, there was nothing there. And that was what upset him. At this rate, there would be nothing there, ever. No little life created by union of him and the love of his life, the same love that was now hell-bent on destroying him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> What had he done wrong? It was the question that would haunt him for the rest of time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In Megatron’s optics, where he used to see love, he now saw hate. Those servos that brought him comfort and held his face and touched his waist as they danced and gazed into each other’s optics, those servos that were so tender with him now clenched in fists as they fought one another, weapons aimed and optics blazing as they yelled at each other across the battlefield. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A sound roused him from his inner turmoil, and Optimus looked up and towards the hallway leading to the back rooms of the clinic. Jetfire walked out of the corridor and paused for a moment, and their optics met. Optimus gave him a gentle grin, and Jetfire tried to return it, but it didn’t quite reach his dim blue optics as he turned away and then made his way out the front doors of the clinic. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Part of him wanted to run out and ask Jetfire how he felt about the coding implementation. Did it make him feel any side effects? Or were the effects of the emotional and mental kind that came with having your choice stripped from you? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It had been a general consensus among the Autobots - it hadn’t been just him that had made the decision. War was no place for sparklings, and in the face of imminent death, bots were finally confessing and bonding to those that they wanted to spend whatever might remain of their life cycle in. Who was he to deny that for them? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But they were adults, grown, alive. It pained him to make that final call from the majority vote that they should all be injected with the contraceptive coding. No chance for a little one to toddle about them, stepping closer and closer to danger.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew multiple bots were taking this rather hard. Bumblebee seemed less cheerful than usual, comforted by Windblade as she assured him they might still have a chance one day. Jetfire seemed spacier than in the past, looking up at the sky with a different longing than that of when he just wanted to take flight. Perceptor closed himself off moreso, if that was even possible, shutting himself in his lab. Optimus knew he was not performing at peak expectations as well. Behind his optics at night, when he tried to recharge, he saw that little one he had wanted so terribly, so much more than anything, saw them toddling after him with servos raised and chirping insistently to be picked up. And he could see Megatron indulging in their request, his beloved carting the little one around on his shoulder struts and reciting philosophy and asking their opinions on his speeches, doting on them and showing such a vulnerable side of himself. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> After a klik of silence, he heard familiar footfalls coming down the corridor and looked up to see Ratchet looking at him from the entrance to the hall. Optimus met the medic’s optics, and then sighed and got to his pedes, following Ratchet down the hallway to a room set aside for this procedure.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sat on the medical berth and looked at the wall directly across from him, staring intensely as if it were the most interesting thing he’d seen all solar cycle.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know you’re thinking over there,” Ratchet quipped from across the room as he readied the code, slipping a chip into a medical tool with a needle that would go between seams of armor and reach Optimus’s protoform. He looked over at him, and Optimus had to pull his gaze from the wall to meet his friend’s gaze. “What’s on your processor?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus stayed quiet for a moment, and then he felt the stopper that he’d plugged up his emotions with break fully. He closed his optics, then reopened them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We had our plans. We would reform Cybertron to be more equal and fair, and then once that was well on its way, we were going to try for a sparkling of our own.” Optimus gave a faint smile and thought of how happy Megatron had looked at the conclusion of that conversation, where they had discussed names and where to settle down with their little one. “He dreamed about giving our sparkling a world where they could be what they wanted, free to make their own choices instead of beheld to the caste they were born into. I dreamed about a little one of my own, a sparkling to love and care for and watch the wonder in their optics as I both taught and relearned the universe through them. Now…” he trailed off, unsure himself where that particular train of thought was going for a moment.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He heard the little noise that he knew was Ratchet resetting his vocalizer. “Do you have your reservations about getting the code because you feel like you’re giving up?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes. It feels like I am giving up on Megatron, when…” Optimus went quiet and felt his vocalizer glitch, and his next words came out in a broken voice. “I don’t want to give up on him.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ratchet stared at him, and then Optimus felt a bead of optical fluid trickle down his faceplates. He raised a servo and wiped the fluid away. “You may think me foolish but it is one of the reasons I endeavour to end this war with both sides standing as completely as possible, as opposed to a total defeat.” He gave a shaky sigh. “Why else do you think I’ve continued to reach out to him for further negotiations so we can end this war?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The medic gave a one-shouldered shrug and turned his attention back to the device in his servo. “You’ve been a glutton for punishment, Optimus, long as I’ve known you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Something at his core made Optimus want to protest, but upon reviewing how long he’d been friends with Ratchet and just the number of ways he’d done something incredibly moronic - among them, romantically entangling himself with the future warlord of the Decepticon - he had to admit defeat. He felt heat rise to his faceplates and he looked away from where Ratchet was fiddling with the device and the chip that contained the contraceptive code. A few moments later, he heard Ratchet get closer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s reversible. Not sure how much that helps you out thinking of it, but say one of these solar cycles that this war is over and you’re standing at the end of it, you can get this taken out and have that sparkling you want so badly.” Ratchet grabbed his arm and found a seam in his shoulder, pressing the thin needle through and puncturing Optimus’s protoform with a small noise of pain from the Autobot leader.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus felt the needle push through and something infiltrated his neural net, his processor pinging warnings at him before something shuffled them away. Nervous, thinking he should be the one that should be closing those warnings and wondering what was doing it, he opened his mouth to speak but then Ratchet cut him off before he could speak. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The code’s bringing up warnings in your systems, and then it’s going to override them. It’ll be fine, it’s programmed to do this.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His spark settled and he blinked his optics and waited for the last warning to shut down. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ratchet pulled the syringe away and then opened up his access panel on his right side, hooking a smaller device in and furrowing his optics as he looked at the readings. A moment later, the medic gave an approving hum. “Code’s in and it’s shut everything related to forging, down.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somehow, those words hurt Optimus more than he’d anticipated. He pressed the tips of his digits against the seam where the code had been injected in and once Ratchet had disconnected the little scanning device from him, he got off of the berth and walked out of the room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The sky outside was dark when he left the clinic. In the distance he could see black smoke rising from the rubble of whatever had been bombed to ashes and dust. Even through the smoke, the stars shone, and he spent a long, quiet moment looking up at them before taking on his vehicular mode and driving off to Autobot headquarters. </em>
</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>It all began a few decacycles after that first, gloriously emotional and passionate spark merge after spending all those millions of stellar cycles apart.</p><p>Since then, Optimus recalled with fondness in both his processor and spark, they’d had their second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth times. His hips still ached deliciously from the sixth time, Megatron taking him mercilessly and pounding into him, looking at his face, and whispering beautiful lines about how perfect he was, how perfectly they fit together like Primus and Unicron had made them for one another, no one could ever do to him what Optimus could.</p><p>How Optimus loved the praise, and how quickly it drove him into overload. He would cling to Megatron with fervor, gasping and begging for more, and not knowing if he wanted the praise more or the relentless fragging into him. </p><p>Tomorrow would be their seventh time, Primus willing and if nothing else arose that would distract them and force them to delay further. Jetfire and Grimlock were both busy hauling a large slab of concrete over their helms, headed for the general direction of Optimus and where he was with Rack’n’Ruin, helping them sort out the rations of energon they’d brought for those at this particular construction site. He watched warily as the two mechs grew closer, but then he saw that Grimlock’s legs wobbled a bit, and he rushed over.</p><p>“Optimus, there’s no need-” Grimlock began to protest, but Optimus made a noise of finality and helped them lift the slab up.</p><p>And paid for it with a rush of dizziness. It had happened twice already, once two solar cycles ago and then again the solar cycle prior. He’d simply needed to sit down but had noticed that the bots were giving him worried glances then, just as they gave him now.</p><p>“Grimlock, Optimus, are you both alright?” Jetfire asked from the front portion of the concrete that he held up.</p><p>Optimus blinked away the disorientation and then met Jetfire’s optics and nodded.</p><p>He knew by the look in Jetfire’s optics that the shuttle didn’t believe him one iota. He shrugged it off and positioned himself to better help Jetfire and Grimlock cart the slab of concrete where it was needed - near the middle of the construction site, where they were going to build a storage closet.</p><p>At that point Optimus began feeling something that he hadn’t really felt beforehand - a feeling of dread that originated somewhere in his core. It was incredibly strange, as it was normally a sensation that came about whenever he was extremely anxious, but he wasn’t currently anxious about anything.</p><p>They set the slab of concrete down and then Optimus felt quite… disoriented again. The passing discomfort he felt rising in his core, that he then realized was actually in his tanks, intensified.</p><p>“Optimus? Are you okay”</p><p>Grimlock’s voice was suddenly like claws on metal. Every sound from the environment around him was claws creating gouges in his armor, and all he could do was stay still and try his best to tune it all out.</p><p>“Optimus, are you-”</p><p>He felt something work its way up from his tanks. Optimus flinched and then put a servo to his mouth, pressing the backside of it to the line of his lipplates and reopening his optics to look at Grimlock - and now Jetfire’s - worried faces.</p><p>“Do you need to see Ratchet?” Jetfire asked. </p><p>For a brief and blissful moment, that pain in his tanks settled and he couldn’t feel whatever it was that was trying to come up, and Optimus was about to decline and say that no, he didn’t need to go to the half-built clinic, he could continue doing what he was doing.</p><p>And then-</p><p>“Optimus?”</p><p>He didn’t know who had called his name, but he was pushing that question out of his processor as he stumbled to the nearest corner he could partially hide in and bent over, servos on his knee joints, and his entire frame shook and shuddered as he retched, bringing up dregs of half-processed energon from his tanks. The upchucked energon got splatters on his pedes, and from behind him he could hear someone gagging - he wasn’t sure whom, but again he pushed that out of his processor.</p><p>His helm swum and he felt like he was in fog as he straightened himself and tried to turn around, but then he swayed. Loud footfalls rushed over and pulled him away from what he’d just ejected from his frame.</p><p>“Optimus, you’re going to see Ratchet.”</p><p>“I’m f-” he tried to protest, squirming against Grimlock as the dinobot held him tightly to prevent him from sliding down or stumbling away, but then he was cut off.</p><p>“No you are not,” Grimlock grumbled, then he and Jetfire shared a look, and Jetfire immediately hoisted Optimus up into his arms and over his shoulder strut. Optimus protested loudly. “You’ve had these bouts three times already and it got worse. This stops now and we’re taking you to Ratchet.”</p><p>Optimus huffed and glared up at the sky and imagined it was Grimlock and Jetfire on the receiving end of his glowering. “It’s nothing more than a passing bug in my tanks.”</p><p>“We don’t want to hear it,” Jetfire said a little imperiously as he set off, led by Grimlock, to the pop-up clinic that Ratchet had gotten up and running in the center of Iacon. </p><p>.-.-.</p><p>“Ratchet, I’m fine-”</p><p>“Three bouts of disorientation and then you hurled up your energon today?” Ratchet turned quickly to face him and huffed, placing his servos on his hips, and Optimus shrank a bit into himself at the loud reaction. “It’s <em> probably </em>nothing serious but it needs to get looked into. You’re staying here until I figure out what’s wrong and can clear you.”</p><p>Optimus knew better than to keep arguing with the medic so he ceased talking and made only a noise of protest when Ratchet put pressure on his shoulder struts, a clear indication that he was to lie down. He did so and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to huff or sigh.</p><p>Ratchet was to his side, muttering about how he was a self-sacrificial glitch. He wasn’t exactly in a position to counter his friend.</p><p>“Well, your spark and processor are in good enough shape for everything you’ve been through. You drank your energon ration earlier, right? You don’t have to keep surrendering it to the stash like you did on the Ar-”</p><p>“I took it,” Optimus replied tiredly, a little bit cranky. And that was the truth. He’d finished up his morning ration before heading to the construction site. “I will also say that the past decacycle or so, I seem to start needing to refuel earlier than I normally do.”</p><p>A pensive look came over Ratchet’s face, and he fiddled with a scanning device that seemed vaguely familiar. “I’ll have to look at your tanks and see if there’s a leak, or another part of your frame that’s drawing more power than it should be.” He plugged the device into Optimus’s side and a few notifications popped up in the Prime’s visual field, warning him that another device was plugged into his systems and taking readings, and then Ratchet disconnected it a few nanokliks afterwards. “Your tank readings seem normal but I can see you’ve definitely nearly run through your energon ration. Now to…”</p><p>Ratchet trailing off in that fashion, and the thick, tense silence that followed gave Optimus reason to worry. He raised his helm slightly off of the berth and looked at Ratchet. “Ratchet?”</p><p>The medic’s servo that held the device up so he could read the scan results went limp, then a moment later his entire arm did so as well, dropping to his side. Ratchet pinched his nasal ridge between a thumb and one of his digits, closed his optics, and in a terse voice he asked a question. “How long?”</p><p>What? Optimus was confused. “What?’</p><p>In quick fashion, Ratchet reopened his optics and looked at him with a fierce glare. “How long has it been since you’ve been seeing <em> Megatron </em>and tangling with him?”</p><p>Oh. Oh Primus, how did he even come to that - admittedly <em> very </em> accurate - conclusion?! Optimus blinked and sat all the way up, slowly. “I don’t see how that-”</p><p>“It’s my business when you’re sparked up despite you having had that contraceptive coding from the start of the war, so don’t “it’s not your business me” unless you want a wrench lodged in your helm!”</p><p>Optimus blinked at Ratchet, twice and then a third time, and then reset his vocalizer. His audio receptors had to be malfunctioning and his processor stalled for a moment, trying to comprehend what he’d just heard. “Did you say… did you just say that I am sparked up?”</p><p>“Want me to check your audio receptors too? Yes, I did.” Ratchet furrowed his optic ridges together and stared at him, his glare softening. “Did you not know?”</p><p>He couldn’t wrap his processor around it. There was no possible way. He had the coding, he had never had it removed. No one had yet - no one had had the time, much less him. Optimus shook his helm and tried to keep his voice even, tried to keep the panic out of his words, as he said, “I can’t be sparked. Your device must be malfunction-”</p><p>In response, Ratchet plugged the device into his own access panel and kept optic contact with Optimus in the few nanokliks it took for the device to finish its review of his systems. Ratchet disconnected it and looked down at the screen to look at the results. “I have my coding intact. Yours is gone. I didn’t do it. So how?”</p><p>Optimus tried to make it make sense in his processor. The only explanation that seemed plausible was quickly disproven - he thought it was due to the coding wearing off over the millenia, but he had been the very last one of the Autobots to receive it. Ratchet and Wheeljack had tested it on themselves first, and Ratchet was here confirming that this was still coursing through his own systems. </p><p>A soft humming in his chassis drew his attention for a moment, and he placed his servo over the seam where his plates would split to reveal his spark and the Matrix. He closed his optics and shook his helm. “I don’t know, Ratchet,” he said softly, finally. “Your guesses will likely be better than I could offer. I swore it was… I swore it would be safe.”</p><p>Ratchet put the scanning device away and crossed his arms over his chassis. “Well, clearly it wasn’t. Now this is happening. Of all the fraggin’ times, has to be when we’re at an uneasy truce with the ‘cons. Well…” he paused and glared at him, “all of us except you and Megatron, apparently. Truce was just foreplay for the both of you.”</p><p>Optimus knew full well that he deserved that shot at his behavior.</p><p>“Just. How?” Optimus could tell that Ratchet had not meant the question metaphorically, and as if to confirm it, Ratchet followed up with, “How did you get entangled with him <em> again </em>? While we’re on a truce with the Decepticons”</p><p>Optimus hung his helm and stared down at his lap, biting down on his lower lipplate. “He contacted me first,” he said quietly. “It was a few decacycles after the wall was completed. He said he simply just needed to hear someone else that wasn’t asking him for direction or lavishing praise on him like his Decepticons can, at best. Someone he could trust.”</p><p>Out of the corner of his optics, he saw Ratchet raise an optic ridge. </p><p>“And I felt the same. I’m constantly asked questions, and question myself, and I… I needed to speak to someone else that is in this position that I am in. Asked so much of and asked to put the needs of so many before themselves. And who else knows this feeling better than Megatron? This mech that I loved, and still do?”</p><p>He could feel Ratchet judging him intensely. Optimus looked up from his lap and at the wall across from him, pursing his lipplates before continuing. “We agreed on a time and place. We finally met up and… it was as if the war had never happened, as if all these millions of stellar cycles had only been a few solar cycles at best.” He smiled, thinking of how quickly they’d connected on so many levels, physically, emotionally, mentally, and how good it felt to be with this mech he’d held out hope for for so long. “And we merged our sparks. I thought it was safe, as I had the coding intact.”</p><p>A heavy silence fell over both mechs and Optimus closed his optics. He would have to tell Megatron. He had to know what they’d created.</p><p>Ratchet’s voice broke through the silence and Optimus opened his optics. “So I guess my question to you is… and I think I know the answer,” Ratchet sighed, “do you plan on keeping the bit?”</p><p>Optimus’s smile faded but was still there, hopeful, as he thought of the little sparkling he’d always wanted. He’d put that dream to rest so long ago, assuming that if the war ended and both he and Megatron were still around for the cessation, that far-off hope would not be revisited - for who was he to assume that Megatron would even want to realize that fantasy with him? But it was a reality now - no longer a dream that he put to rest in the deep recesses of his spark, where he would lie at night and imagine carrying and caring for a little one. </p><p>“I want to keep it.” He looked over at Ratchet. “And even if Megatron refuses to involve himself in this, I will absolutely be keeping it.” </p><p>Ratchet looked at him, and then he took a deep in-vent and then turned around and opened a cabinet. “Well I have to compile all the information on sparklings that’s been recovered, but I can offer you this.” He came away from the cabinet with a small datapad, and a small box of vials. He offered them to Optimus and, seeing the inquisitive look on the Prime’s face, continued, “The datapad’s got a copy of the scans and if you go past that third scan, there’s some information on how to start caring for yourself while carrying. Including but not limited to <em> making sure you take your energon rations </em>,” he said in a firm voice. “No foregoing your rations and giving them to other bots, you need to take this for your bit. Also,” he gently tapped the side of the box of vials, “add one of these to a portion of your energon whenever you take it.” </p><p>It was only a few bits and pieces of information, but it was somewhat overwhelming to Optimus. He stared at the box of vials and then placed it to his side and turned to the datapad that Ratchet had offered to him, turning it on and coming face-to-face with the results of that scan.</p><p>There it was. There was the confirmation that he was now sparked. The scan had registered two different spark signatures in his frame, one his familiar wavelength and the other one unfamiliar, but rapidly pulsing in the confines of his forging chamber.</p><p>He skipped to the third picture that Ratchet had told him about, and held back a gasp. It was the scan of the sparkling, showing the tiny and bright spark that he and Megatron had created. </p><p>“How are you going to tell everyone?” Ratchet’s question drew him out of his reverie. “You can’t keep a sparkling hidden, and then even if you don’t tell Megatron… there’ll be questions.”</p><p>“I know,” Optimus said, sighing. “I know. I will have to figure this out. First, I will need to tell Megatron.”</p><p>Ratchet gave him a look tinged with suspicion. “You’re meeting up with him again, aren’t you?”</p><p>A moment of silence. Then Optimus fessed up, knowing full well that he couldn’t hide anything from Ratchet anymore. It would be pointless. “Tomorrow. I will tell him then, after I’ve had some time to let this fully register in my processor.”</p><p>Ratchet sighed loudly and walked over to the other end of the room. A moment later, a bolt hit Optimus squarely on his helm.</p><p>All Optimus could think was that at least it wasn’t that wrench he’d been threatened with earlier.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whoo, it's been over a month since I first posted this. I'm glad people seem to enjoy the first chapter and are willing to come along for the ride, even if I don't entirely know what's going to happen between now and the ending. </p><p>Thank you for reading and commenting; it means the world to me, even if sometimes I don't reply to them all &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Tomorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Well. That took about another month, even though I did my best to not have that be the case.</p><p><b>With that said, I ask you to please heed the new tag that I have added</b>. There is mention in this chapter (and will be mentioned a few times in future chapters) of a bot (not Optimus or Megatron) having lost a newspark just as the war began. I will not be writing the character actually going through this event. If you remember the very opening of the previous chapter, you will know immediately whom it is. </p><p>I know this content can be upsetting, so I am doing my best to warn ahead of time.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He woke for a second time that night cycle, and let his optics adjust to the faded light streaming through the tiny window above his berth. It was a few cycles before he really needed to be up. Logically he knew he needed to recharge some more, but he found himself unable to do so. </p><p>Instead, Optimus continued to lay down, staring at the ceiling and going over the events of the previous solar cycle.</p><p>He’d gotten sick for the third time in… four or five solar cycles? He’d lost count. And he’d actually been unable to overcome it as easily as he had been the first two instances, and upon testing by Ratchet, his friend had discovered that not only was his contraceptive coding gone from his frame entirely, but he was now sparked.</p><p>Sparked. The word sounded so foreign to Optimus’s audio receptors. The usage of the term had died down among the Autobots a few millennia after the mass sterilization procedure, as everyone’s processors finally turned to focus on the war effort and those that had yearned for the sound of tiny pedes and little chirps soon learned to forget the longing, learned how to put it in the back recesses of their processors.</p><p>Sparked. If he would try to say the word out loud, he might stumble over it, and it might feel like he discovered an ancient artifact lost to the ages, or that he was trying to speak with pebbles in his mouth. The word bubbled up in his processor and tried to make its way out of his vocalizer, but he found himself unable to say it again.</p><p>Not for regret. It was just… an odd thing to come to terms with.</p><p>Sparked.</p><p>Ratchet had said that the sparkling was strong, tiny spark pulsing forcefully with determination to keep living. One of the stronger ones he could remember scanning, though he admitted that it had been far too long since he’d done so. Optimus felt a little bit of fear in his tanks when he recalled Ratchet’s words.</p><p>
  <em> “Lucky that they’re quite strong, no doubt due to you and Megatron being the creators. You just passed that time that sparklings can get lost quicker. I’m sure you remember what happened with…” Ratchet trailed off, and for the first time that cycle, Optimus saw a forlorn look cross his faceplates. Ratchet didn’t need to name the mech he was talking about; Optimus knew. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He went down in a fight, if I recall correctly,” Optimus replied, his spark twinging at the long-ago memory. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ratchet sighed and continued putting the last of his examination tools away. “He did, but if the newspark had been a bit older and inside the forging chamber like your bit is, and not attached to his spark, it may have had a better chance at surviving that trauma.” </em>
</p><p>Optimus placed a servo over his spark and then closed his optics, thanking Primus that his little one had gotten past that treacherous point and managed to descend to some semblance of safety. Curious, he placed the palm of a servo on his midsection, slowly flattening his digits on the surface and relaxing joints and cables in his frame that he hadn’t realized were tensed up. He let out a heavy sigh, and closed his optics, focusing inward.</p><p>And there it was - a burgeoning little field pulsing rapidly, in tune with the little one’s spark. It was imperceptible and could only be recognized if one knew what they were looking for, but it was there. </p><p>It wasn’t until his audio receptors picked up the sound of fluid plinking on the surface of the berth to his side, that he realized he was actually crying. It was finally hitting him. He was carrying, sparked, going to have a sparkling of his own. That long ago hope was realized, Primus willing.</p><p>Sitting up slowly, Optimus felt his processor spin a little bit before righting itself. Turning to his berthside table, he grabbed the box that Ratchet had given him the day prior. He took one of the little vials out and eyed the powdery substance suspiciously before pouring it into his cube of energon that had been set out. He watched the blue glow turn pink, and then drank it.</p><p>It was sweet. Much too sweet.</p><p>He gagged and choked it down, and glared at the thick slushy substance, before begrudgingly finishing off the rest. It was for the sparkling, he reminded himself, and by deciding to keep the little one, he’d signed up for this.</p><p>It would be a long stellar cycle.</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>“Optimus! I heard you went to Ratchet yesterday.”</p><p>Optimus smiled but also cursed that the Autobots were as close as they were, for <em> gossip </em> traveled like fire through the ranks. He looked up from the latest datapad that Arcee had given him with a wide smile and a flourish of her servo before she ran over to Grimlock, and looked right at Bumblebee. The yellow mech was looking at him with a worried expression on his faceplates, but Optimus’s smile seemed to put him at ease. Putting the datapad in his subspace, Optimus replied, “I did. I am sufficiently better now, thank Primus.”</p><p>One of Bumblebee’s doorwings fluttered and now he was smiling too. “What was it? Bad energon?”</p><p>The lie came out of him smoothly - mostly. “I did leave my energon portion out in the sun and I assume that it went bad. As for why it continued to affect me until recently... I’ve always had quite a sensitive tank.”</p><p>“Yeah, you could never hold your high-grade well,” Bumblebee smirked and then lightly tapped Optimus on his arm. “Remember when we dragged you back into Maccadam’s for your sparkday celebration and you took one sip of high-grade and then-”</p><p>“I remember, <em> vividly </em>,” Optimus deadpanned, remembering how he gagged that high-grade and couldn’t force it down, and somehow wound up sprawled on the floor. “I don’t need a reminder, thank you.” He remembered something he’d truly wanted to ask Bumblebee, and then thankfully was able to change the subject. “Has there been any progress made with Windblade?” he asked quietly.</p><p>The brightness of Bumblebee’s optics dimmed, and the smile slacked off his faceplates. He sighed and his doorwings drooped. “No. We’ve been trying to get her to wake up, but she’s just… not there.” He clenched and then unclenched his servos. “Chromia and I are going to try something. We’re not sure if it’ll work but… we’re going to try.”</p><p>Before Optimus could ask what it was that Bumblebee and Chrome were planning on doing, Jetfire showed up, smiling brightly at him. “Optimus! I take it you’re feeling much better than yesterday, hmm?”</p><p>“I am, thank you,” Optimus said gently, smiling at his amica.</p><p>Jetfire’s bright expression took on a more serious look. “I should hope so! If you get sick again, Grimlock and I are taking you to Ratchet again and we’ll be barring you from doing any physical work.”</p><p><em> I will have to excuse myself from physical work far sooner than you anticipate, </em> Optimus thought to himself. Instead of fessing up the news to his friend, Optimus simply changed the subject. “Did you and Grimlock finish constructing that wall I was helping the both of you with?”</p><p>“We did!” Jetfire said proudly, placing his servos on his hips and puffing out his chassis. “We finished that entire room, and it’s ready for inspection when you see fit. Right now, we’re simply taking it easy.”</p><p>A few levels above them came Hot Rod’s voice. “I’m almost out of <em> paaaaiiinnttt! </em>” As if to drive his point home, Hot Rod looked over the edge down at Jetfire with a mildly irritated expression and brandished a dripping paint brush.</p><p>“I’ll get you another can, <em> hold on </em>,” Jetfire called up in exasperation. Under his breath, he muttered to Optimus, “I don’t think he’s doing a very good job, but he’s trying his best.” A look came over his face, and then he squinted his optics at Optimus. “Did Ratchet clear you to be here?”</p><p>“He did,” Optimus responded firmly, ready to pull rank on the shuttle if necessary. “I won’t be doing any manual labor, if that is what you’re concerned about. Overall, the tests that Ratchet ran on me came out perfectly fine.”</p><p>“It is.” Jetfire relaxed his expression and smiled. “I’m happy that your results came back with good news; I was quite worried there. Grimlock and I discussed it on our way back from dropping you off, and we were concerned that that blow you took from Starscream in the Battle of the Titans may have done something.”</p><p>“That was what I thought as well, but it just seemed to be the aftereffects of bad energon.” Optimus arched an optic ridge up at Hot Rod, who was now doing something he’d learned while on Earth called “dabbing.” “You’ve been there a few times where I was unsettled by-”</p><p>“Bad or incredibly strong energon?” Jetfire smirked knowingly. “Like that one time for your sparkday celebration at Maccadam’s-”</p><p>“Okay, that is <em> enough </em>,” Optimus interrupted, trying to quash the heat rising to his faceplates. “It doesn’t seem like I’ll ever live that particular episode down.”</p><p>“No, you won’t,” Jetfire said mischievously before patting a servo on Optimus’s arm and turning around, sprinting away. Optimus smiled forlornly as Jetfire wandered back over to Grimlock and Arcee and helped them hoist cans of silver paint onto a small platform, which Jetfire balanced in his servos before flying up and setting the paint cans next to Hot Rod. He watched as Hot Rod playfully flicked flecks of paint at Jetfire, much to the shuttle’s chagrin as Jetfire wiped it off and flicked it back at the younger mech.</p><p>Memories flashed in his processor, only a tad younger than the age of the war - gingerly stroking the jet’s arm and hand, his own spark shattering at the grief on his longtime friend’s faceplates, the howl of grief echoing in his audio receptors.</p><p>Sighing and looking at the horizon, the sun now closer to setting and closer to letting him be free of his leadership, only if for a night. He could go be with Megatron, for this night, embrace him and make love with him and give him the news.</p><p>He hoped that Megatron would be happy. As long as he was happy, he told himself, they could figure out how to weather the coming storm together.</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>Optimus was the one kept waiting this time around. He nervously drummed his digits on his knee as he sat on the ground, looking at the stars above, doing one of the few things that brought him peace. He found the constellations of Solus Prime and her Forge, the Cybercat and her kittens, and that of Orion the Hunter - a constellation he’d learned about on Earth. </p><p>After all those millions of stellar cycles, he was surprised he could still make out the native constellations he’d sought out as a youngling when he’d been taught about them. Yes, some of the stars had faded out of existence - the middle star making up the handle of Solus’s Forge had been long replaced by a nebula born out of its ashes. Out of those ashes, would come new birth.</p><p>He thought of how poetic it sounded, and sighed.</p><p>“Are the stars that much more intriguing than the noise of a craft approaching?”</p><p>Optimus jumped. He’d been so lost in thought. He blinked his optics and looked to his side, relieved to find that it was only his beloved standing a fair distance away. Megatron chuckled, and Optimus only thought of how he would give anything to see Megatron smile like that and laugh like he did. Getting to his pedes and giving the stars a parting glance, he all but raced into his lover’s arms, taking Megatron’s face in his hands and kissing him.</p><p>Megatron laughed again, his powerful engine rumbling. “Someone’s eager tonight.”</p><p>Optimus pulled back and pressed their forehelms together. “When each night apart feels like a lifetime… quite, yes. I’m very eager.”</p><p>A devilish grin came over Megatron’s face. He picked Optimus up, startling the Prime, and before Optimus knew it he was being gently deposited on the berth and had the Decepticon’s frame looming over him. The action sent a thrill down Optimus’s spinal strut, and before he realized it, he’d retracted his panel.</p><p>Megatron reached between their frames and pressed the tips of his digits against the wet folds and throbbing node. “Primus,” he rumbled, a lascivious grin on his face, “I can’t wait to seat myself in you.”</p><p>Optimus arched his hips into the stimulation and laughed. “I thought the novelty would have worn off by now.”</p><p>“Oh, watching you, my stoic data clerk, come undone because of me will never, <em> ever </em> lose its novelty,” Megatron growled, and then a moment later Optimus heard the unmistakable sound of his beloved’s panel folding back. </p><p>Unable to control the noise that came out of his vocalizer, Optimus wrapped his legs around Megatron’s waist and tried, tried his best to get that spike inside of him, but then Megatron surged forward and <em> oh </em>. Oh Primus, that was amazing.</p><p>He pushed his pelvic struts into Megatron and tightened the grip of his legs around him, as the Decepticon’s intakes hitched. Those strong servos came to rest on Optimus’s hips, and Megatron thrust faster and harder, deeper into his valve, thoroughly stimulating all the nodes his spike could reach. Optimus clung to Megatron, sure that his digits were scraping up the Decepticon’s backside, but that thought didn’t seem to occur to Megatron as he continued rocking his hips back and forth, gasping in Optimus’s audio receptor. </p><p>Optimus squeezed down on the spike within and laughed a little bit mischievously when Megatron moaned, loudly, and the steady rocking rhythm of his hips became erratic, frantic, chasing an overload that Optimus knew was coming. He moved one of his servos to clutch at the back of Megatron’s helm, holding the Decepticon’s face to the nape of his neck, and met Megatron’s frenetic thrusts with equal fervor.</p><p>“Primus damn you for everything that you make me feel,” Megatron rumbled. His voice was wavering, and Optimus could see in his mind’s optic the expression that Megatron had, open-mouthed and optics going bright, slack as his processor all converted power to making sure he could reach completion. “You are perfection incarnate, and <em> Primus </em> how I hate and love you for it.”</p><p>Optimus released his grip on Megatron’s helm, allowing him to move so that they were now almost face-to-face. Bright optics, blue and red and luminous like their sparks, met, and while holding optic contact Optimus reached between their frames and rubbed his digits on his anterior node. He saw Megatron’s optics brighten. He increased the touch of his digits on his node and leaned his helm back, gasping when Megatron’s dentae bit down on his neck cables and then licked over the marks left.</p><p>The pressure that had been building reached its breaking point, and Optimus gasped in overload, jerking his servo away from his valve and holding onto Megatron with his other servo as he felt his release overtake him. Distantly, he heard the noise that was Megatron’s growl, felt the Decepticon press their pelvic arrays together and the surge of transfluid into his frame. </p><p>After a few moments of silence, broken only by their frames working to cool down, Optimus sighed as Megatron pressed their forehelms together, and he smiled at him, spark soaring when Megatron smiled back. He used to think - no, not used, <em> still did </em> - that Megatron’s smiles were the most beautiful in the universe, and how he used to think about what he would give to make sure that he would always get to see it, for it made him happy to see his beloved so happy.</p><p>Then he said it. Just right out of the gate. He reset his vocalizer, looked directly into his beloved’s optics, and said, “I’m sparked.”</p><p>Time went still. At least, it seemed like it did. He heard any air that was in Megatron’s ventilation systems leave his body entirely, and noticed how his optic widened and the line of his jaw went slack before his mouth fell open in an expression of shock.</p><p>It was about how he had expected Megatron to act, when he let himself get carried away by the fantasy all those eons ago - when they were young, not battle-scarred and war-hardened, and had hope in their sparks for a brighter future. He imagined it like this, some intimate moment where he would reveal the news, imagined Megatron going still in shock and his optics widening.</p><p>It was about the same, yes.</p><p>Megatron’s servos came to the sides of his helm and gently tugged him forward a little bit, a pleading look on his faceplates. “You’re sparked?”</p><p>Optimus nodded and smiled.</p><p>“And you’re not joking? Please, tell me-”</p><p>“Is it in my nature to joke, especially about something like this, Megatron?” Optimus countered and frowned, briefly offended before he remembered that this, this was how his beloved was. Optimus moved his helm so Megatron let go of him and reached into his subspace, pulling out the little datapad that Ratchet had given him. He turned it on, and then handed it over to Megatron.</p><p>The Decepticon took it into his servos in a manner befitting that of an ancient treasure, carefully and with hope in his optic. He blinked and looked down at the screen. </p><p>And there it was.</p><p>The imaging scan of the little one. The tiny bright spark that had stayed resilient enough to descend from the orbit of Optimus’s spark into his forging chamber.</p><p>There was a moment of silence, and then Megatron hastily thrust the datapad back at Optimus - making the Prime think for a moment that he’d been <em> wrong </em> and Megatron <em> didn’t want any part of this </em>-</p><p>And then Megatron took his face into his servos again, and kissed him deeply.</p><p>For a brief, blissed klik, there had been no war and there was no uneasy truce between them and they were not the leaders of their respective, rival armies. For that brief klik, they were young again and hopelessly devoted to each other and to the same cause, and dreaming about that little one they wanted so badly. Optimus smiled and laughed against Megatron between those momentary breaks of their kisses, soaking in the pure and absolute joy that radiated from the other mech as between kisses, he whispered in a hoarse voice that was thick with emotion, “We’re going to be creators. We’re going to be <em> creators </em> . I’m going to be a <em> sire </em>.”</p><p>Optimus sighed as they broke away from each other and raised a servo, stroking his digits along the side of Megatron’s face. His spark fluttered when his beloved tilted his helm a bit and closed his optic, humming gently from deep within his chassis. Then, Megatron reopened his optic and kissed the palm of Optimus’s servo before kissing over his chassis, directly over his spark and the Matrix, and then trailing his way down to his middle with more and more kisses. Optimus smiled and pressed a servo against his mouth to stifle a laugh as his sensors in the area all lit up as Megatron planted a kiss over his lower middle, just between the expanse of his hips.</p><p>Right where their sparkling, their little one, was.</p><p>Megatron nuzzled his middle and then pressed the side of his helm against Optimus’s frame, clinging to him fiercely. Reaching down, Optimus stroked the top of the other mech’s helm. “Can you feel them?” he asked quietly.</p><p>The light coming from Megatron’s one optic dimmed for a few moments, and then suddenly brightened as he turned his helm to look up at him, and smiled. “I can feel them. Their spark is so <em> strong </em>, Optimus. Just like yours.”</p><p>Optimus smiled up at the ceiling of the craft. He blinked away the fluid that was precariously close to streaking down his face, and sighed. “I’m not certain how it occurred. I swear upon my Matrix that I was being truthful in believing that my coding was intact. It is readily apparent that it was not.”</p><p>Megatron stayed quiet, the kind of quiet that was contemplative. He curled further into Optimus’s side, keeping his helm and a servo over the Prime’s middle.</p><p>Optimus continued stroking the top of Megatron’s helm, thinking for a minute longer before he asked, “How will we tell both of our armies? About… this?”</p><p>That got Megatron to speak. He made that noise of resetting his vocalizer, and then said, “My Decepticons are <em> not </em> going to be pleased when they hear about this”</p><p>Optimus smiled and laughed. “My Autobots will be incredibly disappointed in my conduct as well. Our trysts can be hidden more easily than a living being can be.”</p><p>Megatron moved from where he was to lay directly next to Optimus, still pressing against his side as Megatron gazed into Optimus’s face. He made a small noise and then kissed Optimus, and Optimus returned the kiss, lipplates meeting in a gentle touch. When they broke apart, Megatron pressed his forehelm against Optimus’s again.</p><p>“Tomorrow we can think of how and when to tell our armies, and we can question how this happened,” he said in a low, raspy voice. “Tonight, all I want is to be with you and with our little one.”</p><p>As if to drive the point home, one of Megatron’s large servos moved and grasped one of Optimus’s smaller, but still large, servos. Optimus smiled at him, feeling his spark flutter with joy.</p><p>Megatron was happy. He was so happy. <em> Both </em>of them were happy. They could weather this coming storm together.</p><p>Both mechs lay together, and Optimus listened intently to the rhythm of Megatron’s frame working to keep him going, the hydraulics that kept his limbs and joints moving, the whirring of his one optic as he closed it, the sound of his intakes cycling air through his frame.</p><p>Optimus thought back to earlier in the solar cycle, the bots he had spoken to, and thought of what their reactions would be. It would be hard to gauge, and though he knew they’d be extremely disappointed in him…</p><p>He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought. If they hated him for his conduct, well, he fully deserved it.</p><p>Shifting how he lay in the berth, Optimus spoke softly. “When it comes to telling our factions, there is someone that I’m worried may be… affected by this. One of my amicas.”</p><p>He could feel the inquisitivity in Megatron’s field, indicating that the Decepticon was still awake despite the closed optic. Optimus sighed and then continued, “You remember how at the beginning of the war, the Autobots all concluded that we should get our conception coding stopped entirely, so we wouldn’t risk accidental sparklings being brought up in the midst of conflict?”</p><p>Megatron grumped and reopened his optic. “Vaguely. As I recall it, by that time we were not on speaking terms.”</p><p>He had a point. Optimus gave a firmer than necessary tap of his pointing digit on Megatron’s helm and continued, “Jetfire was wounded in aerial combat, and it was only when Ratchet reached his location to stabilize him that Ratchet’s scans picked up the fading signature of a newspark that was still in orbit around Jetfire’s spark.”</p><p>The other mech made a pained noise. “Primus. It was that young?”</p><p>“Indeed,” Optimus confirmed, a little twinge of sadness in his own spark. “Jetfire was...” he trailed off, and the digits on his other servo stroked over the flat expanse of his lower middle, and he shifted as he thought of how he would feel had he been in the shuttle’s place. “We decided that it would be for the best to completely eliminate the chances of conception among us. We could not stop anyone from continuing with relationships and partaking in what activities may come of them. But after seeing what happened with Jetfire…”</p><p>Megatron finished the part that Optimus was having a hard time articulating. “If a sparkling went offline during the war, it would further devastate morale even more so than having none around.”</p><p>Optimus nodded slightly.</p><p>There seemed to be a wave of anxiety suffusing Megatron’s field, which was frankly not normal for him. It startled Optimus when he felt it brush against his own, already-anxious field. </p><p>Megatron grabbed one of his servos again, and intertwined their digits. He brought their joined servos to his faceplates and kissed the back of Optimus’s hand.</p><p>The Prime took comfort in it, curling against his beloved, lying his helm on Megatron’s shoulder strut.</p><p><em> Tomorrow </em>, he told himself. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Plotting for this story is coming along, but I have figured out more side-plot than main plot. I may be shifting parts of future chapters to the POV of other bots, since most of this story so far has been from Optimus's POV. Because of this, the chapter count has also been increased to ten, and may be increased a bit more later down the line. </p><p>I am hoping to try and figure out the main "event" that will tie this fic together, if indeed that should be the case for this fic. If it is not the case, I know that I can simply fall back on exploring post-war Cybertron life for certain ships of mine.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. In The Same Boat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He had not been so excited that he was unable to sleep in such a long time. He stirred and kept waking every so often during the brief time that he and Optimus were able to spend together, so eventually Megatron decided that sleep was a lost cause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so here he was, turned on his side and letting Optimus curl into his chassis. He kept one of his servos over Optimus’s backplates, looking down at the other mech as he watched Optimus’s optic covers flutter and watched him stir every so often, trying to get more comfortable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How beautiful he was. Megatron remembered being so taken aback by the absolute beauty of this mech when he had seen him for the first time, which was in the audience at one of his matches, seated exactly where that pen pal who corresponded with him said he would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought it was a trick of the light. There couldn’t be someone so beautiful in existence. How could he exist on this planet in this same moment in time as this beautiful mech?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the mech went up and spoke to him, ignoring the throng of adoring fans around them, and said that he was Optimus of Iacon. He was finally able to make it to a match, at last - and how he was so worried for his well-being the entire time, flinching with each blow and slash directed at him, thinking that he might go offline before they had the chance to finally speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Primus had allowed Megatron to live another day, and what a glorious day it was that he could spend in the company of this magnificent being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered Optimus being shy once Megatron had turned the conversation from talk of politics and the caste system to personal matters. He remembered the mech fumbling over his words and having to choose them carefully as he answered his questions of where he worked and what his life was like on a day-to-day basis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What different worlds they came from. Though not of the ruling class, Optimus was very much aware of the opportunities afforded to him by his status as a part of the data keeping and archival caste. His compatriots in the arena made fun of him after that meeting, calling him a lovestruck newspark for how much he talked about Optimus and how they would finally be able to make their plans happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He believed so much in them. In both of them. So much so that when Optimus had turned his back on him, it had hurt him more than the worst wound he’d ever gotten in the arena had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’d split off from each other, those dreams and talks that had gone from strictly-revolutionary to </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>creator-hood played over and over in his helm for a while before he managed to stifle it and store it away. It would never be revisited again, he was certain. How could it be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Primus worked in weird ways, and now, here they were. Millions of stellar cycles had passed, an entire war had happened, they’d crossed the universe… and now here they both were. Megatron felt a flare of protectiveness over his mate, curling around Optimus a little more and his gaze flickering down between their frames to where Optimus had one of his servos resting on his belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sparked. This mech in his arms was carrying a tiny, new life in him. A life that he’d helped create, a brand new little being that would be a part of this new start for all of Cybertron. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little life that would experience the caste system, the inequalities of society, the revolution and the war, only all through stories they would listen to and read datapads about. They would be born into a world free of that. They could do what they wished, and the only conflict they would know would be the ones they would make up in their playtime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were pure. Primus had blessed the both of them with such a pure little thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron moved one of his servos to stroke over Optimus’s side, and he kissed the mech lightly on his helm crest. Optimus’s blue optics slowly opened, and after a moment of adjusting his optics to the light around him, he smiled and blinked up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you looking at me the entire time?” he asked, tiredly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Primus</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Megatron thought, thinking of how the Prime’s voice was so precious when a little groggy after recharge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron leaned in and kissed those full, beautiful lips as gently as possible, a gentle little flutter that felt like his spark when he saw his beloved looking at the stars. Optimus made a soft noise and then pulled back. “How long have you been awake?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus narrowed his optics and measured him for a moment, before saying with a knowing tone in his voice, “You didn’t sleep, did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron couldn’t and wouldn’t lie. He smirked. “Not for longer than a few kliks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus blinked his optics and then sighed, sitting up slowly. Megatron watched how gingerly he did so, taking special care to not do so so quickly, and watched as Optimus’s servo returned to where it had been, over his middle. He watched as Optimus closed his optics and the cables in his neck tightened a moment, then released at the same time Optimus reopened his optics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling Megatron’s gaze on him, Optimus replied in a tone that conveyed irritation, “If I move too quickly, I might throw up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you speak from experience?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, and Megatron saw the mechanisms in Optimus’s optic - the one he could see from the side profile - stall. Then Optimus frowned and replied, “Sadly, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron sidled up to Optimus again, kissing the side of his face and smiling when Optimus made a flustered noise. “I do this to you constantly and still, with the embarrassment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus huffed, vents letting out a puff of hot air. “I’m simply not used to it, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Decepticon chuckled. “I have a faint memory of you getting used to it, some time ago. Flirting with me, and in </span>
  <em>
    <span>berth</span>
  </em>
  <span> no less, enticing me with kisses and licks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d caught him. Optimus paused, and then smiled back. “You’ve made your point.” Then Optimus looked out of the window, and sighed. “I will need to return soon. I don’t want to raise more questions than I can answer at this moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t live in that alternate reality where Megatron had imagined they were already living together and their armies were just going to have to deal with it. Not yet. Steeling himself, he asked the question. “How do you propose we tell our armies about our impending little one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked at him, and Megatron fell in love all over again with those beautiful blue optics. Optimus reached for him and put a servo on the closest servo that Megatron had positioned near him, stroking the pad of his thumb over it. “I believe it would be best that we break the news separately, to our own factions. You know how to best handle your Decepticons and… I know, I believe, how to handle my Autobots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tone didn’t seem at all confident, and Optimus looked down. Megatron made a low noise in his chassis, calling Optimus to look up at him again. “You don’t seem very convinced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime set his lipplates in a line and stared harshly at him. “I’m sparked up by the very mech that tore our world apart. I believe you can imagine how my friends, my Autobots, will feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron snorted. “I can imagine how betrayed my Decepticons, that rose from the arenas and the mines like I did, will feel when they learn that I sparked you up.” He stroked Optimus’s face again, cupping the side of his helm and watching Optimus lean into the touch. “If I were more of a fantasist, I would have suggested we take this very shuttle and fly away to where no one could reach us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gave a rueful half-smile and then straightened his helm, pulling away from Megatron’s offered servo. “The thought did cross my processor, but I do appreciate the access to medicine and checkups that I have here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron kissed his Prime, his love, and growled in his audio, “Then, before we part for now, I have a gift for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Optimus’s fans kick on. Before Optimus could ask, Megatron leaned down and kissed the nape of Optimus’s neck and made his way down, over his chassis and over his abdominal plating and pelvis, reaching the warming interface panel that he’d accessed only a few cycles before. It opened before either could say anything, and Megatron greedily devoured the sight of the wet, swollen folds that were already lubricating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pressing the palm of his servo against those plump lips, he massaged them, only just missing the anterior node, and looked up and watched Optimus’s face shift into an expression of hunger and want. One of Optimus’s servos reached for him but then Megatron pushed a little bit upward so the edge of his palm caught against that pert and throbbing node, and Optimus’s hand dropped to the berth like dead weight, and the Prime gasped and arched his hips into the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron then settled between Optimus’s legs, hooking one of the other mech’s legs over his shoulder, and pressed his lipplates to the wet, mesh folds of the Prime’s valve. He began humming, softly, and peered over the arch of Optimus’s hips to watch as Optimus’s servos grasped at the berth a little bit tighter, watched the Prime squirm above him and move his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stroked his glossa up and down quickly over the slit of his valve before working his way in, parting the lips before he kissed the anterior node and delved in. He could almost feel Optimus’s spark jolt somewhere above him, the mech moaning wildly and trying to quiet the wanton noises he made, to little success. Already he knew what Optimus looked like, helm lolled to the side, optics wide and bright, chassis heaving to cool him down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Growling, Megatron kept his face against Optimus’s array, licking faster and deeper as Optimus shook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-Megatron,” Optimus gasped, legs stiffening and locking around Megatron’s helm and shoulders, “please, I’m g-going to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>release</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Megatron growled against Optimus’s valve, his bright red optic looking up at the Prime over his hips. “Don’t hold back, sweet one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed like that was all that Optimus needed. The Prime arched and bucked his hips against Megatron’s face, gasping and crying out as a rush of lubricant left his valve, and whatever lubricant that Megatron didn’t greedily drink and lap up spilled down his chassis and onto the berth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moments after Optimus’s overload were full of the sound of his fans working to cool him down, and his rapid ex-vents slowing down. Megatron wiped as much of the lubricant from his faceplates and front as he could, and then stood up. He made to close Optimus’s panel for him after he dabbed and wiped him down as much as he could, until Optimus could get to a wash rack, before the mech below him reached and grabbed one of his servos by the wrist. Megatron looked at Optimus with a curious expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need release,” Optimus replied in a low voice that Megatron </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was incapable of resisting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron paused, and then climbed over Optimus a moment later, releasing the locks on his own interface panel and sighing as Optimus reached between their frames to grab at his spike. Optimus stroked the length, swirling his thumb over the tip of it, before guiding it to his own valve, moaning as Megatron sank inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>After all, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Megatron thought as he hitched up Optimus’s legs to his waist, holding firmly onto the Prime as he began to rock in and out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who am I to deny the carrier of our sparkling?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Optimus take off, his spark already grieving the time they would have to spend apart before they could reunite again. He reached out for him for a moment and then lowered his servo, looking up at the fading stars that were giving way to the morning, and then reentered the shuttle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flight back to Decepticon headquarters was quiet, and Megatron was almost in an autopilot type of mode as he guided the shuttle back to its resting spot in the hangar bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he disembarked, Dead End and Sky-Byte were waiting for him. He hissed, “I was expecting to be alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End sniffed and crossed his arms over his chassis. “You missed your morning inspection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of what, exactly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The red-armored bot stared at him for a klik before responding, “What you’ve been telling Astrotrain and I to work on. Remember, that cannon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Right. He’d been so immersed in thoughts of Optimus, the sparkling, their future together and how to go about it, that he’d forgotten for this long time that he was not only still a leader of a warring faction, but was also getting ready to face the entity that had taken out his optic. Megatron shook his helm. “Of course I didn’t! I simply had other things on my processor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Such as?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None of your business!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not right now, anyway,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Megatron thought to himself. He waved a servo. “I’ll be there to inspect the cannon in a quarter-cycle, now leave me be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End shrugged and wandered off. Sky-Byte stayed put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Megatron asked, only slightly less irritated by the presence of his friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shark-mech gave him a look. “I’ll have you know that you should be quite grateful I’m the one in charge of security at night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron said nothing, only glaring at the other bot to make him clarify himself. Sky-Byte took the hint and said, “You claimed on your check-out files for the shuttle that you would be gone only for a cycle. Not most of the night. What were you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that’s any of your business, Sky-Byte,” Megatron replied. “Now unless you have any other inquiries, be gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I have another one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron groaned internally and walked towards the direction of the unspace cannon that Dead End and Astrotrain had going, only half-listening to Sky-Byte’s prattling as the shark-mech tagged along with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His Matrix pinged at him, almost threateningly. Then a message appeared in his communications inbox. With the alternate Matrix having caught his attention, Megatron feared opening the message, thinking for a moment that the other one had caught up to him before he was ready to even try to fight back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he saw that the sender was only Optimus. He opened the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot find it in me to tell my Autobots just now. If that is okay with you, I will wait until we can wait no more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Optimus-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s spark felt a little bit lighter. He responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot bring myself to tell my Decepticons either. We are in the same boat, as the humans might say.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Megatron-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“-think about building a pavilion for performances someday, after this whole business with the unspace cannon is finished?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he remembered his company. They had reached the door that would take him towards the weapon. Megatron turned to Sky-Byte and asked, “Why are you asking me what I think about this,” he waved a servo, “prattle nonsense?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte sniffed. “Did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>already </span>
  </em>
  <span>forget what I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> telling you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron smirked and walked through the doors. “I couldn’t have forgotten if I wasn’t listening in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Sky-Byte sputtering brought him some joy. The shark-mech threw his servos up and stomped away. There, that would give him some peace for a little while. It wouldn’t last long, however. He knew his day of reckoning was near. The Matrix in his own chassis felt heavier for a moment, a visceral reminder of what was very likely to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A visceral reminder that, he only thought just now, he may never get to meet his sparkling. And if things went further south… neither would Optimus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron placed his digits over his chassis for a moment, and then moved it away, making it seem like he was simply checking an imperfection on his plating when Dead End turned to look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire pursed his lipplates and looked over at Grimlock, sending him a ping over their communication line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Do you see what I’m seeing right now?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimlock looked up and at him, then moved and looked in the same general direction that Jetfire was looking at. ::I’m not sure what I should be seeing::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Look at Optimus::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle watched as Grimlock looked at Optimus, who was seeming very out of place at the construction site as he seemed very hesitant to help lug heavy equipment. He did so, anyway, but something about Optimus’s conduct - when he’d been so eager and helpful only a decacycle or so ago - made him suspicious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::I think we need to contact Ratchet. He probably isn’t cleared to be lifting heavy equipment:: Grimlock responded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::You know he takes his patient-medic confidentiality very seriously. What if he won’t budge?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Don’t ask him for specifics, but tell him that Optimus is out here doing physical labor and if he’s not supposed to, we’ll see Optimus stop::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire nodded. ::Fair point::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he prepared his message to Ratchet, Jetfire took a pause and then looked up, watching Optimus’s body language. Watched how the Prime seemed exceptionally intent on trying to lift with just his shoulder struts, putting no effort from the rest of his frame into it. He also was favoring his chassis and middle a lot more than was normal, servos flicking towards his middle especially before pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought intruded. Jetfire considered it, and then shook his helm. Grimlock caught the movement and looked up, this time asking verbally, “What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a thought about what could be going on with Optimus. But, it’s preposterous, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire sighed and turned to look at the dino-mech in his optics. “I thought for a moment that he might be sparked. But as far as I’m aware, he hasn’t been… engaging in that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That gave Grimlock pause. He looked at Optimus again, and then made a noise of contemplation. “I… well, you could be correct. I would still reach out to Ratchet. And say nothing to Optimus. He’ll tell us when he’s ready, if he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of being correct made Jetfire slightly giddy, but then he felt a small pang deep in his spark, where he hadn’t felt it in quite some time. He pushed it away and sent his message to the medic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A klik later, Optimus looked extremely put upon and wandered to the other side of the construction site towards where Hot Rod was continuing to paint walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the third time that day, Ratchet checked his systems and made a grumpy noise when the results came back showing that his own contraceptive coding was perfectly intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How? That was the question he, and no doubt Optimus, were asking themselves. How in the name of Primus did Optimus go and merge sparks </span>
  <em>
    <span>once,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then come out the other end of it with a newspark in what </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been an inert forging chamber?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It shouldn’t have been possible. And yet it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet there was Optimus, at a Primus-forsaken construction site, </span>
  <em>
    <span>lifting heavy objects when he’d be explicitly forbidden to do so</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank Primus for Jetfire and his excessive smothering-type care at times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was close to the end of the solar cycle, and Ratchet knew he needed to leave and get a break. He checked to make sure everything was secured, and then left the clinic, heading the opposite way from his domicile and towards Maccadam’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spark panged at the thought of the old bartender, and how it wouldn’t be the same going to the oil house and not seeing the jovial mech behind the counter. It was at least nice that he would see a relatively familiar face, but nothing would beat Mac. Ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Iacon was slowly getting its pre-war traffic back as more and more bots returned to Cybertron after entire lifetimes away from their home planet. Ratchet looked up at the sky and briefly smiled as the sun was on the horizon, setting, and allowing the stars to come out and shine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bar had its familiar music wafting out the slightly open windows as Ratchet approached, and when he entered he saw a number of familiar Autobots. Most of them raised a servo in greeting before going back to their conversation. He made his way to the front counter and sat down, sighing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his peripheral vision, Ratchet saw Perceptor tilt his helm at him curiously, and then the bot turned around, and a klik later, Perceptor walked over with the largest size of high grade that Ratchet had seen. He placed it in front of the medic. “Rough solar cycle, I take it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet grabbed the highgrade and downed half of it in one go, and then replied, “You’ve no idea. The things I’ve seen recently, I’m surprised I haven’t picked up a habit of highgrade yet. This could be the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor stared at him - well, stared in his general direction, Ratchet had to remind himself - and then he cracked a half-smile that was very fleeting before he said, “Well, of course I have no idea. I am not you, and I also can’t see, so there is that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You make worse jokes than Ultra Magnus did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I've been told.” Perceptor laid his servos on the counter. “Care to tell me about these things you’ve seen, or will I have to find out about them later?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet snorted into the highgrade, making it spatter inside the glass. “You’ll find out about them later on, trust me. Patient-medic confidentiality either way. Can’t tell you specifics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve made your point. Given that I’m incapable of sight, how has construction been going on at the clinic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh it’s done, thank Primus. I can see patients now and not have to yell for some peace and quiet while I try to do auditory checks on bots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m glad. The day that patching was finished here was a wonderful day indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another bot came up and sat a seat away from Ratchet, and Perceptor strode over to take their order. Ratchet looked up, realized something, and then covertly pulled out a tiny device and attached it to his servo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, the results came up. Intact as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I may be completely blind but you do realize all my other senses have adapted to compensate for the lack of sight, correct?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice made Ratchet jolt a little bit. He blinked up at Perceptor, who had clearly already served the other mech, and put the device away in his subspace. “Yeah I’m aware of that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t lie. I know you just scanned me. I’ve heard that thing enough times already to know what it sounds like. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rifling through his processor for a lie that could sound somewhat convincing, Ratchet replied as cooly as he could, “Just making sure that the blown out connectors in your optics aren’t in danger of harming your processor any time soon, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor paused, and then countered, “That sounds like a lie, but if you don’t want to tell me, so be it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully there was no further time for Perceptor to continue interrogating him, as Ratchet got a ping on his communication line. He answered it, and then swore when Wheeljack was on the other end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>::So, I blew up my servo. Can I come in?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::If you let me hit you with a wrench for calling me after-hours, yes, you can come in::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack sounded much too delighted at the prospect of being hit with a tool as he cheerily responded with ::Whatever you say, Ratchet! I’ll be there in a few kliks::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet downed the last of his highgrade and slammed the mug down on the bartop. Perceptor tilted his helm at him. “Do I want to know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wheeljack blew his servo off. The work of a medic never ends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor nodded and took the now empty mug of highgrade, and Ratchet rushed out of the bar, thankful that he wouldn’t have to suffer more questions about why he’d scanned the other mech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack beat him to the clinic, waiting outside with the shattered servo held in his other one. He looked far too happy to see him. Ratchet gave him a glare and let the both of them in, leading him to one of the examination rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You pulled me away from Maccadam’s. I was having a lovely evening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” The fins on Wheeljack’s back lowered slightly. “I’m sorry about that, if I’d known I would have blown my servo off another time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t back sass me, only I can do that. Here, get up on the berth.” Ratchet waited as Wheeljack did as he asked, and then took the shattered servo into his and inspected it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were very minor wounds, despite the digits all hanging by a single wire. It would be a relatively quick fix. Ratchet retrieved his tools, made Wheeljack place his injured servo on a table tray, and got to work, repairing all the wires and circuits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move your digits for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack obeyed, making a noise of slight disgust when he saw the wires move and what remained of his digits respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well at least we know your processor and servo still work together. Now hold still, I have to weld this protoform and armor back together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Ratchet did so, smirking as Wheeljack flinched at the sight of the flame, he decided that he should do the exact same thing as he’d done to Perceptor. Thankfully, he had his scanner already, and he could get away with it when this was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the metal of the engineer mech’s armor was patched together, he took a scan of Wheeljack’s readings, a strange and sick part of him hoping and praying that somehow it would show that it was also missing. He was proven wrong, thankfully. Wheeljack’s coding was also intact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet knew he would need to get a larger sample size in order to be absolutely certain. If Optimus was the only one that was missing the sterilization code… there was really only one major difference between Optimus and the rest of the Autobots, and it was the presence of a holy trinket he carried around in his chassis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Matrix of Leadership. In older texts, he knew it was also referred to by other names. Among them, as the Creation Matrix.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet inspected his work on Wheeljack’s servo, made a noise, and then let go of it, letting it drop harshly onto the tray in front of the other mech. “Well, it’s all fixed now. Did that hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack glared at him and wrung his servo, holding onto the wrist with his other one. “Yeah. Quite a bit, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, now you have an inkling about how much of a pain in my aft you are. What were you working on that made you blast your servo off?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, just some very small drones to keep my main one company,” Wheeljack said brightly. “He’s getting lonely and I thought it’d be cute to give him some other little bots to be in charge of.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet stared at Wheeljack, and a moment later he produced a wrench from his subspace and thwacked the mech upside the helm with it. He was a little bit irritated when Wheeljack only tried to duck and laughed when the tool made contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun shone brightly on this solar cycle, just as it had the past few decacycles. Optimus turned his face up to the sun and smiled, closing his optics as he basked in the warmth. He heard little cybersparrows off in the distance, singing their tune that welcomed the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checked his communications inbox for that message that had greeted him when he’d woken up.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>For you, who makes the sun shine each morning, who gives me hope for a future, and who is my equal in all things. My spark belongs to you forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good morning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-Megatron-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It straddled that line between being sweet and extremely overindulgent, almost out of character for the warlord. He wondered if he’d been taking lessons in writing poetry from Sky-Byte. The thought made him laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After standing in the sun for a bit longer, he went back into his little domicile and grabbed an energon cube and one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> vials of additives to add to it. He paused, mentally preparing himself, before pouring the powder in and ingesting as much as he could in one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yup. It was still as disgusting as the first time he’d taken that mixture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A communication request pinged at him. He checked who the other bot was, and quickly answered it. ::I am awake and about to head to the clinic soon.::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::You better be here soon! I have a lot of things to check for and don’t want to spend all solar cycle checking them.::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled and replied that he would start heading out in a few kliks, and then went back inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive to Ratchet’s clinic was wonderful, bright as the sun was. He was happy to see bots out and about, trying to resume a life that had put on hold so many millions of stellar cycles ago. The work that the Autobots had been putting in in helping repair Iacon was tremendous, and it seemed very soon that most of the major buildings would be up and functional again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was delighted. His and Megatron’s sparkling would be born into a world finding its footing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clinic came into view and he took on his bipedal mode and went inside. As expected, Ratchet was waiting with his arms crossed over his chassis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you didn’t keep me waiting for long. Come on,” the medic turned and led him to an examination room. Optimus was already familiar with the routine, and laid down and watched with rapt interest as Ratchet prepped the scanning devices, datapads, and the screen for the interior scans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been getting your usual… </span>
  <em>
    <span>donations</span>
  </em>
  <span> from him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gave Ratchet a look. The medic sputtered. “Oh don’t play coy, I know you’ve been meeting with him,” he grumped. “You’re as predictable as the sun rising and falling each damn solar cycle. I’m only asking because you need it, otherwise I need to up what I give you for your energon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I have still been meeting with him.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And all for the better,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Optimus thought to himself. How he hated the taste of that concoction he had to drink daily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Ratchet turned on the scanning device and placed it over his lower middle, pressing buttons to sharpen the image that appeared on the screen. Optimus turned his helm, and smiled at the image of the sparkling that greeted him, watching raptly as the little one made small movements like opening and closing their servos. Ratchet made noises that Optimus knew were in approval, and he relaxed as the examination continued, interrupted here and there only by Ratchet pausing to write information down on the datapads and take image captures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few kliks, the medic reset his vocalizer. “If you’re interested, I can tell you what frame type your bit is, and also what the scans say on the mech or femme part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt a little flutter of excitement in his tanks - that, admittedly, was probably also due to the bitlet moving. He thought about it for a moment, and then nodded in assent. “It would be nice to give these updates to Megatron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a flash of disgust cross Ratchet’s faceplates before the medic handed a datapad to him. “Well, the reads I’m getting indicate you’re actually having a flight frame. And, congrats - it looks like this little flight frame’s also a femme.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus pressed a servo to his middle and looked down at the still (thankfully) flat surface, and smiled and closed his optics. A femme. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>flight-frame</span>
  </em>
  <span> femme.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that he was quite grateful to still at least have Jetfire around, and perhaps Windblade should Bumblebee be able to help her recover. He couldn’t teach this little one to fly, nor could Megatron. He made a note to take them aside and ask them if they’d be willing once the little one was more of age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” he asked, reopening his optics. “How can two grounders…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make a flight-frame?” Ratchet finished for him. The medic sighed. “Well, it’s likely you and Megatron have the code for a flight-frame that’s laid dormant and it just,” he waved a servo, “happened. Could also be a spontaneous mutation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet moved the scanning device away, allowing Optimus to sit up and look down at the datapad that Ratchet had given him. He looked through the pictures, and came upon the one where Ratchet had notated the little signs that showed the startings of little wing buds, and that indicated the spark type as that of a femme.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A femme. A daughter. A precious little femme that he could already tell was going to be a lively one, inquisitive, and oh how much they loved and cherished her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything’s in good shape and you have that datapad to show him.” Ratchet made a noise. “I’d say it would be nice if he wanted to come in sometime but… well, you’d have to deal with everyone else first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus’s spark sank. It had been a few decacycles since he and Megatron had discussed how to tell their armies, saying they would break the news separately, only for the both of them to shy away from it. Optimus didn’t blame Megatron - he was certain that the Decepticons may turn on him for this, and then where would that leave his beloved?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus did blame himself, though. He surmised he wouldn’t meet such a vitrolous reaction from his own Autobots, though he knew for certain they’d be very disappointed in him, like Ratchet was. Though, he figured they wouldn’t be armed with wrenches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to start showing soon,” Ratchet’s voice cut through his train of thought. “Bitlet’s getting bigger by the decacycle. So when are you going to tell everyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime held the datapad to his middle, and stared off at a point on the wall opposite him. “Soon. Though how to do it is… debatable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet gave him a look. “Just go out and say it. ‘I’m sparked up and it’s Megatron’s.’ Not much harder than that. Though saying it’s Megatron’s will be the hard part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that is why I haven’t said anything as of yet. I’m worried about the reactions from the Decepticons, if I’m to be honest. I worry about Megatron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well some way or another, you have to say something. Everyone knows that you and Megatron were a thing before the war, and Jetfire’s told me he’s asking questions each time he sees you. He knows something’s going on,” Ratchet said, tossing a bolt up and down in the air in an almost threatening manner. “And like I said, you’re going to start showing that you’re carrying. You can’t keep it secret forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know.” Optimus curled his servos around the edge of the berth, and then sighed. In a low voice, he said, “I still ask myself how this happened. I swore everything was intact.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet paused, and then Optimus noticed in the corner of his optics as Ratchet dug into one of the cabinets in the room and pulled out a larger datapad than the one that had been given to him previously. The medic handed it to him. “Here. Turn it on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked curiously at the datapad, then at Ratchet, then turned it on and looked through the records it held.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his medical history, all written in code taken directly from his frame. Every injury or operation, any injection that he’d received, his frame had stored it away deep in its memory that not even his processor knew how to access. Ratchet had taken care to highlight the code that showed the infusion of the contraceptive code into his frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the line directly under the infusion of the code, was a word. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Null.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now compare that, with this.” Ratchet handed him another datapad, and Optimus saw that this bot had had their code injected around the same time as him. However, on the line after it, that four letter word </span>
  <em>
    <span>null</span>
  </em>
  <span> was missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t say who, but this is from another bot that’s still kicking and I checked them recently. Their code’s still intact. Yours, for some reason, right after I injected it, went kaput.” Ratchet took the two datapads back. “You’ve actually been going around all these millions of stellar cycles </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> any sterilization code in you. Your frame purged it right after I injected it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt his processor stall as he took in the information. All these millions of stellar cycles? Without the code? His frame had </span>
  <em>
    <span>purged</span>
  </em>
  <span> it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His processor then booted back up and made a connection that he felt was the most plausible. As if in response, the Matrix in his chassis hummed at him. He looked down and placed his digits over his chassis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet saw the movement, and said, “It’s not concrete, and I don’t know if we can even prove it, but I’m pretty sure the Matrix is responsible for purging your frame of that code. It is also called the Creation Matrix, which I’m sure you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the pieces seemed to fall together. It would make sense. It would remove that coding to ensure that creation could continue, if only by means of the current host - him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Optimus could say anything further on the theory, an urgent ping came over his communication link. Optimus checked who the sender was, and saw that it was Wheeljack. He answered. ::Yes, Wheeljack?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Optimus! Thought you might want to know this - we finally found the remains of the Judge that those Quintessons made of Starscream. But…::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus didn’t like that heavy, contemplative pause. ::What is it, Wheeljack?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack made a noise of uncertainty before he finally fessed up. ::Starscream’s not present. Big hole where his helm should be::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt his tanks sink in dread, and he lowered his servo from his audio receptor, closing his optics. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, what's this? A semblance of plot? Hey!</p><p>It's starting to form a lot more concretely, though some parts still need filling in. I'm excited to try my hand at writing from the perspectives of bots other than Optimus and Megatron, and I hope I do them some semblance of justice. I had fun writing Perceptor and Dead End for the first time, and writing some more Jetfire! He's become more precious to me as I've done more plot for this fic.</p><p>As always, thank you for reading, and comments are very much appreciated! I will try to get another update out soon, though I know I say that with each chapter ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please heed any newly added tags, as usual! The main one for today is adding the Bumblebee/Windblade relationship tag, as it's finally mentioned as a conjunx situation. There will be a few more tags that will get added in the future, but I will update the tags as the story goes along and the material comes into play.</p><p>Also, this chapter does have some emotionally heavy material regarding Jetfire at the end, so fair warning on that front!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> The beeping of his communication link roused him from recharge. Optimus blinked his optics to adjust to the darkness of his room, and then looked to see who was calling him at such a late cycle. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He half-expected it to be Jetfire. As much as he dearly loved his friend, he had been peppering him with a multitude of questions lately. Right as Optimus was about to reject the voice call request and send a message saying “Please wait until the morning”, he finally comprehended who was calling him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Strange. It had been such a long time. He hadn’t expected Megatron to still have the access code to contact him directly.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus hesitated for a moment, and then answered the call request with, ::I’m surprised you remembered my code:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a pause on the other end, and then Megatron replied. ::I wasn’t expecting you to answer me:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Why is that?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Well, I expected one of two scenarios. One, that you would recognize my code and ignore it. Two, that you would have forgotten my code and refused to answer a strange call coming to you in the middle of the night. I was mistaken:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus smiled and gazed up at the ceiling. ::I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Megatron. However, I am wondering what the purpose of your call is:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was another long moment - a couple of moments, rather - that passed between both mechs with no response. Then Megatron gave a response, sounding rather bashful. ::I remember vividly that you had a missed contact message to those who weren’t as successful in getting your attention as I. It was quite cute, especially for you. You sounded very youthful:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus had forgotten about that particular greeting. He’d long since gotten rid of it. If Megatron were there, he would have pelted him with a pillow for daring to bring up such an embarrassing memory. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Prime sighed into the communication link. ::I wasn’t aware just how youthful I sounded in that greeting until you brought it up. I had recorded it when I first began working at the Hall of Records as an archivist and over time… of course my manner of speech would change:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::And of course you would show your age when you talk:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus could almost feel the smirk on Megatron’s face. ::If memory serves me correctly, you’re a few decacycles older than I am, Megatron. I don’t think you’re quite one to be calling me aged:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That made Megatron laugh. He could imagine it, piecing together a vision that would exist only in his processor, compiled of all the times he’d been privy to hearing and seeing his gladiator laugh out loud. ::Fair is fair, Optimus. You do have another advantage over me, in that you slept for sixty-five million stellar cycles and I slept for none of that time. I’m sure I sound very much older:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::If we’re being honest, your voice sounds as if your vocalizer was singed in a blaze and haphazardly repaired:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus didn’t know where he’d suddenly come up with that, but he was unable to stop himself from saying so. He then paused, as did Megatron, and then Megatron did a noise that Optimus hadn’t heard in such a long time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was wheezing with laughter. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Comedy was never your strong suit:: Megatron said when he managed to compose himself. ::Am I actually speaking to Optimus Prime right now? My adorable archivist who came to me with ideas for a revolution that were just far too precious?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Memories of how he’d come to Megatron in the Pits of Kaon, speaking with this mech that knew hardship far more intimately than he did, and remembering his suggestions on course of action for when societal upheaval commenced, made Optimus want to retreat into himself. He closed his optics and placed a servo over his optics. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::I regret how I first approached you. My place as someone higher on the caste system was to listen:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Hmm. If I give you any credit, it is that you quickly learned to listen, and helped me use language that would reach the masses. You never inserted your own beliefs when you wrote my speeches, only transcribing what I wanted and making it better:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus smiled as he remembered those long-ago writing sessions, at his place or Megatron’s, a couple of times at Maccadam’s where he would part from Jetfire and Grimlock and got a booth over to help Megatron with his endeavors.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Well. I appreciate the credit, if anything:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A comfortable silence fell between the both of them, and Optimus imagined that Megatron was there, and that he could hear the sound of those old, constantly repaired systems. How he missed having the mech nearby him, a comforting presence. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::I know I’ve said this before, but:: Optimus trailed off a moment and thought his words over, before deciding to go forth with it. ::Thank you. Thank you for saving Cybertron and doing away with the Quintessons:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There was a heavy silence from Megatron’s end of the comm link. Then, Megatron replied, his voice sounding much older, as if he’d aged a few million stellar cycles in an instant. ::What I saw on the other planes spurred me to come back. What I saw over there made me realize that I had to return as soon as possible and make an attempt to right some of my wrongs. There are many that I cannot change, but I am hoping that I can earn your forgiveness for how I’ve acted towards you all these stellar cycles:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus heard the regret in Megatron’s voice, and all in that instant he felt that ever-present urge to go to his former (and still current, if he were to be completely honest with himself) beloved’s side. He thought of Megatron lying alone in his berth, staring up at the ceiling the same way that he was. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His spark softened. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::I cannot promise that I can learn to forgive you entirely. However… I suppose I have always been far too soft with you. I might forgive you entirely, someday, if I see that you truly mean it when you say that you want us to continue to have peace:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He knew Megatron well enough that he could imagine how the other mech was reacting. Optimus liked to think that the heavy silence that came from Megatron was due to him thinking hard about how he could show that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The next question had Megatron asking just that. ::How would I show you that I mean what I say, Optimus?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus turned over to his side, looking at the space where, in better times, Megatron would have been with him. ::Be better. That is all I ask, Megatron. Be better than you were the solar cycle before, and before that. Too long did I watch you continue to descend into despotism from that gladiator, with a gleam of hope in his spark and fire and fury in his optics, that I once knew you as. I would like to see you return to the mech you once were:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Heavy silence, again, as Megatron seemed to mull over the words that Optimus had offered him. Then came a soft chuckle, and Megatron responded. ::I miss your touch. Never had I had anyone touch me with such gentleness, treating me with kindness, like I was made of glass. I miss looking up from your drafts of my speeches and seeing you watching the other bots and watching your thoughts in your optics. I miss your presence. Your presence was one of the very few things to ever calm me. Optimus, you were my rock, ever steady during turbulence. How much I miss that about you:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus felt his spark flutter. He missed Megatron so deeply, and for so long he’d pushed that emotion deep into the recesses of his processor, to be forgotten. He couldn’t let his emotions override the responsibility that had been thrust on him, with the Matrix and having to wrangle and lead an army. He placed a servo over his spark. ::I miss the stubbornness with which you held your ideals, and the kindness that existed beneath that exterior you present. I know you laugh, but it was a kindness that spurred you to speak with this simple, unassuming data clerk from Iacon. I miss the ferocity that you defend your loved ones with. You frustrate me, the same way I know I frustrate you, but that matters little when in the end, I know we can work towards an agreement.:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He paused for a moment. Then he said, plainly and clearly ::I still love you, Megatron. I always have and I forever will:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It took Megatron only another moment before he softly replied. ::As do I. Despite everything I have done, it was always my wish to keep you with me, to convert you to my side:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus rolled back over to his back struts. ::And it was always my wish for you to cease the war, and realize that we had to cooperate. Though it took much time, you came to that conclusion yourself:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The Prime remembered being so shocked that Megatron had come to rescue them all, and how Megatron had extended that wish for peace. Even if that wish had been expressed through posturing and threats. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Megatron’s voice cut through the memory. ::What I believe I miss the most about you is your ability to see the good in anyone. No matter the malevolence they may have brought into the world. Hmph. Whom else could see the good in me, still? Only you could, Optimus. Only you:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A thought seized Optimus. He wanted to see Megatron, even despite the wall that separated them. He wondered if Megatron would go for his proposal.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then he thought it over. It might not be the most prudent course of action. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Megatron, however, was a mech of many surprises. He heard a sigh from the other end of the line. ::Truthfully, I did hope I might get to hear your voice, Optimus. I’m sick and exhausted of being tasked with answering, or at least entertaining, questions that are aimed at me, solar cycle in and solar cycle out by my Decepticons. And the constant sucking-up, Optimus. Do your Autobots ever, ever do that to you?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Optimus laughed. ::No, though I can commiserate when it comes to answering questions. They are quite constant. I truthfully do not care what shade of paint is given to each building, so long as they are consistent and not a sore sight:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Sky Byte asks me that question constantly:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Jetfire is the culprit, in this instance:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A barked laugh came from Megatron, and Optimus could imagine his entire frame jerking with the motion. ::Those two have far more in common than they would admit:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Indeed they do:: Optimus smiled, his mind thinking back to that truce agreement, how he turned away from Megatron and saw Jetfire and Sky Byte sharing a look of their own before following their leaders. ::We are in unique positions, being the heads of our armies. What an irony that we seem to be the only ones able to confide in each other about the struggles we face:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Ironic indeed. Optimus… would you consider perhaps a meet-up? I would like to see you:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Even though he’d been considering proposing such a thing a klik or so ago, Optimus now felt apprehensive when the proposition was coming from Megatron. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Despite what was possibly his better judgement, Optimus replied. ::Yes. When should we meet up?:: </em>
</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>::I’m sorry, my beloved::</p><p>Megatron couldn’t meet his gaze, as they were back-to-back, fighting off these Perfect Decepticons (as Megatron called them) with their bots. Their Matrices activated their powers, reaching out to their armies, giving them further power to overcome the challenges before them.</p><p>Within, he felt the sparkling send him a pulse of something between curiosity and apprehension. The little one knew that something was very wrong. </p><p>How he wished he could shield her. He did the best thing he could for the time, and closed off the fledgling carrier-creation bond that was beginning to form between him and the little one. He tried not to think of how terrified that would make her.</p><p>“These Perfect Decepticons are finished,” Optimus said once it was only the lot of them in the room. He turned to Megatron and tried to keep his voice level. “Now I must destroy that Matrix.”</p><p>It was strange, really. They had kept sending these little messages to each other in the time before this, Optimus revealing the frame and spark type of their sparkling to Megatron, Megatron continuing to greet him each morning, telling each other how much they loved the other while also dancing around the fact that they were still a secret.</p><p>Now here they were, fighting for their lives, Optimus knowing and regretting that he would have to destroy that Matrix affixed to Megatron’s internals.</p><p>Megatron met his gaze. “This Matrix is our only way to stop <em> him! </em> We must join our Matrices together - through their power, we can-”</p><p>Then a noise cut Megatron off. Beams of light shone around them, cascading from the ceiling, the sky, and revealing more Perfect Decepticons. Optimus faced them and clenched his servos into fists.</p><p>::Megatron, what is going on? Where are these Decepticons coming from, if not from you?::</p><p>::It is my fault we may die today. If I do anything right in this universe for my final act, I will do everything to make sure that you and our little one survive what is to come::</p><p>Megatron’s voice yelled at him, ordering him to get down. Optimus did so, watching as Megatron fired at the Perfect Decepticons converging on them. When they were vanquished in the beam that Megatron fired at them, Optimus turned over in time to see-</p><p>No. </p><p>It couldn’t be.</p><p>There was another Megatron behind his Megatron. This other Megatron had both of his optics intact.</p><p>“Megatron!” Optimus shouted, reaching for his beloved. “Watch out!”</p><p>But it was too late. This other Megatron slapped away his Megatron’s weapon and blasted him in the chassis, sending him flying backwards. Optimus ran forward and caught his Megatron, lowering him to the ground.</p><p>“Megatron,” he whispered, pleading, one of his servos coming to caress his face. “Please.” His servos shook. He held his dying mate - no, <em> not dying </em>, he refused to believe such a thing - in his lap and stroked his face, holding back his own cries and gasps. Megatron gasped out and curled onto his side, so his face was directly to Optimus’s middle, just as he had done so many times before.</p><p>“Tell our little one,” Megatron rasped, and Optimus could see how painful it was for his beloved to talk, “that… that sire loves her. Please.”</p><p>At that moment, Optimus noticed that Bumblebee was right in front of him. And the scout had heard Megatron’s words. Optimus looked up and into Bumblebee’s wide, shocked optics, feeling trepidation course through his spark alongside the fear at the situation, that Megatron may not live further than this moment. Optimus steeled his expression, trying to keep the panic out of his optics, and sent a communication message to the scout.</p><p>::Tell no one. Please::</p><p>Bumblebee’s optics blinked as he read the message, and then the response came a few moments later.</p><p>::I won’t. But you have to answer my questions when you have time::</p><p>Optimus nodded, and then watched as Bumblebee aimed at the other Megatron, going for the Matrix that had been forcefully revoked from his Megatron. He set Megatron on the ground, and looked behind him for a moment to see that Ratchet, flanked by Soundwave and Shadowstriker, was running for him.</p><p>He could leave Megatron for now. He had another, dire matter on his servos.</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>Only moments after Astrotrain had absconded with the defeated, Matrix-less Megatron, had Optimus broken into a run and returned to where he’d left Megatron and the others. When he arrived, Ratchet was loading Megatron onto a floating berth and arguing with Soundwave and Shadowstriker.</p><p>“How do we know you won’t do anything funny to him?” Shadowstriker argued. </p><p>Ratchet scoffed. “I’m a medic, and my coding prevents me from doing anything that might harm someone under my care, for one. Two, your medical facility is further than mine and yours is woefully underequipped. Three, you can come over and watch me, if it bothers you that much.”</p><p>Shadowstriker shared a look with Soundwave. Soundwave gave her a nod.</p><p>It didn’t matter to Optimus what they did, if they came with or not. All he cared for was that Megatron would be fine.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity, they were on the move in a shuttle, speeding towards Iacon. Optimus could feel how discomfited Soundwave and Shadowstriker were as he sat by Megatron and held his servo, looking at him, and at him alone.</p><p>There was a faint twinge in his middle, and he reopened the creator-creation bond, thankful that the sparkling had survived the intense strain of battle.</p><p>He thought of Jetfire for a moment. He’d been through what he’d been, and his sparkling had made. Optimus knew he could never chance that again.</p><p>When they arrived at the clinic, Ratchet got to work and barked at Soundwave and Shadowstriker, telling them that only one could stay in and watch him work, as having two would be too crowded. Shadowstriker elected to stand guard outside, and Soundwave watched from a corner as Ratchet took readings and connected Megatron to an energon drip. Steadily, Megatron’s energy levels began to improve, and his spark rate fell to within acceptable parameters.</p><p>“He fell into stasis, and thank Primus it seems to be exactly what’s been keeping him kicking,” Ratchet said as he looped the tube connecting Megatron to the energon drip over a hook, to keep it steady. “He’s mostly out of danger.”</p><p>Optimus brushed a servo over the side of Megatron’s face, a part of him hoping it would wake him. Out of the corner of his optics, he saw Soundwave move as if to come over, pause, then settle down when Optimus removed his servo. “So, we’re just waiting for him to wake from stasis lock, then?”</p><p>“More or less. He’ll have to undergo more tests. But, that’s something we can think about when…” Ratchet trailed off, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, and finished, “when he wakes up.”</p><p>There was an unspoken word that hung in the air. <em> If </em>Megatron ever woke.</p><p>Optimus grasped one of Megatron’s servos in his and brought it to his faceplates, kissing the back of it as he blinked back the beginnings of fluid that tried to trickle out of his optics and down his faceplates.</p><p>
  <em> Please. Please come back, Megatron. Come back to us. </em>
</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>The moment he saw Windblade walk through that entryway, following Ratchet, Bumblebee felt his spark lift. He caught her optic, and then she only had optics for him.</p><p>“I missed you, Windblade” he said as she came towards him. She smiled, and his spark swelled.</p><p>She threw her arms around him, and he hugged her back. She buried her face in his neck and murmured, “I missed you too.”</p><p>Everyone crowded around them, giving words of celebration that she was back, and that she had been the one to ultimately fell the other Megatron that threatened their universe. Bumblebee clung to her. He’d almost lost her so many times by now - he didn’t want to lose his conjunx again. </p><p>“Windblade,” came a tearful voice, and Bumblebee moved his helm to see that it was Chromia. The blue-armored femme came over, waited a moment for Bumblebee to let go, and then she and Windblade enveloped each other in a tight embrace, laughing.</p><p>“Are you feeling okay?” Chromia asked softly, her servos coming to rest on Windblade’s forearms as they parted. “Not feeling like any part of you is missing?”</p><p>Windblade laughed. “If part of me was missing, I don’t think I’d be here.”</p><p>Chromia paused for a moment and then laughed in response. “Right, right. Sorry, I just worry. I’m so glad you’re here.”</p><p>Bumblebee felt his spark flutter as Windblade hugged the other Camien again. He looked around at the group - and was shocked to see that Soundwave and Shadowstriker were part of the festivities as well, though he was not going to complain. </p><p>Then he caught Optimus’s optic. Optimus had spoken to welcome everyone, but had been quiet afterwards. The Prime nodded at him and smiled, and then walked through the same doors that Ratchet and Windblade had entered through, leaving the balcony.</p><p>Windblade watched as Optimus retreated from the little celebration, and she looked at Bumblebee.</p><p>
  <em> ::Is he okay?:: </em>
</p><p>Having her send a message over their sparkbond startled Bumblebee, as it had been some time since it had happened. He looked at the doors closing behind Optimus, and then at Windblade.</p><p>
  <em> ::I need your word that you won’t tell anyone. I’m not supposed to even tell you but…:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::I’d get it out of you anyway. I promise I won’t say anything:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::And promise you won’t react?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::Yes, yes, Bee, what is it?:: </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ::He’s sparked:: </em>
</p><p>Bumblebee was glad that they were facing away from the other Autobots, with the exception of Ratchet, who was only partially facing them and didn’t seem to notice the look of surprise on Windblade’s faceplates. At the very least, her reaction was only a moment, before she composed herself and turned around to laugh as Grimlock and Arcee converged on her, embracing her in a crushing hug.</p><p>The scout wandered to the edge of the balcony and leaned against the railing, looking at the sun on the horizon. </p><p>As the day went on, the congregated bots thinned out, until soon enough it was just him and Windblade left. Windblade sat on a stone seat by the railing and sighed loudly.</p><p>“Am I right in assuming that it’s Megatron’s?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Bumblebee turned away from the sun and joined Windblade on the stone bench.</p><p>“The sparkling. Optimus’s sparkling.”</p><p>“Well, from what I heard Megatron say, it seems like it.” To prove his point, Bumblebee duplicated the memory file in his processor, clipped it down to the few seconds where he’d heard Megatron’s raspy, near-death voice give what seemed to  be a final request, and sent it over to Windblade. </p><p>He waited a few moments as Windblade watched the memory file, watching as her faceplates went firm and she closed her optics, then reopened them. “They really couldn’t keep their panels closed, could they?”</p><p>Bumblebee gave a bitter chuckle. “No, I guess they couldn’t.”</p><p>Windblade leaned back, putting her servos behind her to steady herself. “How long has it been?”</p><p>The scout gave a shrug. “I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken to Optimus yet about this. What I sent to you is as much as I know so far.”</p><p>Windblade’s optics dimmed, and she shook her helm. “Primus help us all. There’s a wall, Bee. A wall separating the Autobots and the Decepticons, and it spans the entire planet. They seriously just…”</p><p>“They held us to different standards,” Bumblebee finished for her. “I know. I’m a little peeved about that too. Optimus had also asked me to not tell anyone, but he’ll have to forgive me for telling you. Just. Please don’t say anything to anyone.”</p><p>“I won’t. But now that you’ve mentioned it, I can see something different about him.” Windblade pursed her lipplates. “Now I’m wondering if anyone else might see it.”</p><p>“Probably. Apparently Jetfire’s been sensing something, or so Grimlock’s mentioned in passing. Soon enough, everyone’s going to have to know, whether Optimus likes it or not.”</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>“‘Little one’? ‘Sire’?”</p><p>The repetition of those words made Optimus’s spark sink. He stroked Megatron’s servo, and then shifted his gaze from his mate, and the sire of their sparkling, to his friend standing in the doorway. Bumblebee’s wings were flared outwards, meeting his shoulders and back, and he looked nowhere near as happy as he usually was. His faceplates didn’t have his usual friendly countenance, and Optimus was not used to the firm line that Bumblebee’s mouth was set in, nor the stern gaze.</p><p>Optimus motioned for Bumblebee to close the door behind him. The scout paused, and then did so. When the door was closed, Optimus said, “Yes. I am sparked. Megatron and I are expecting a sparkling.”</p><p>Bumblebee blinked and shook his helm. The simple motion made Optimus feel more shame than if Bumblebee had just yelled at him. “How long?”</p><p>“About a third of a stellar cycle in.” Optimus moved his free servo to cover his middle, stroking over the mostly-imperceptible curve. At least, he thought it was mostly imperceptible. “I was intending on finally telling you, and the rest of the Autobots, once everyone began noticing and asking questions.”</p><p>He internally winced at how pathetic he sounded. It sounded like an excuse, something he hadn’t intended on fulfilling.</p><p>A noise from Bumblebee caught his attention, and Optimus looked up to see that Bumblebee was pacing. “I can’t believe you, Optimus. You and Megatron made such a show. <em> You both started a war </em>. Well, I suppose Megatron did,” Bumblebee’s expression changed briefly as he considered his words, and then he shook his helm. “Even then! We built a wall! A wall across our entire planet, and you guys made a show about taking action if a Decepticon came to our side or an Autobot went over to their side, and you guys were crossing over and…”</p><p>The scout didn’t have to finish for Optimus to know what he was going to say. How dare they hold themselves to a different set of rules than their armies.</p><p>“I know I have messed up in spectacular fashion, Bumblebee,” Optimus sighed as he stroked the back of Megatron’s servo that was clasped in his. “I have no excuse and intend on offering none.”</p><p>“Good. I forgive you, either way.” Bumblebee was now at his side, having moved over from where he’d been, in front of the closed door. “Oh, and just so you know,” one of his wings moved, lifting slightly before lowering, “Windblade knows. She could get it out of me, one way or another.”</p><p>Optimus wanted to be upset, but all he could do was smile. “It was quite a lot for me to ask that you keep this secret, especially from your own conjunx.”</p><p>“For what it’s worth, she won’t say anything. We’re both just very disappointed, but I’m sure you can tell already.” Bumblebee crouched down next to Megatron’s berth in favor of pulling up a chair and sitting on it. “So when are you going to tell everyone?”</p><p>Megatron’s spark rate increased, startling Optimus and Bumblebee, and Optimus watched the numbers on the scanner until they lowered to an acceptable rate. After waiting a klik to be sure the spark rate would stay steady, Optimus replied. “I was thinking that when Megatron rouses from stasis, we could tell everyone. However, upon reflection, it may be more prudent that I say something. We don’t know when, or even if, he may wake.”</p><p>The thought pained Optimus so much. He thought back to their last reunion, Megatron splaying his servos over Optimus’s middle and kissing him, telling him that their child, their daughter, would be the most fierce creature in the universe.</p><p>“Better tell everyone now,” Bumblebee’s voice cut in. “Though who’s going to tell the Decepticons, if not Megatron?”</p><p>Optimus didn’t want to think about that right now. That part would have to be something he’d address if and when the time came.</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>Ratchet was getting irritated.</p><p>He had to double check to make sure that it had been a decacycle indeed, and then he entered the room that Megatron was in, hooked up to wires and scanners as he was still in his stasis lock. To Megatron’s side, as he had been for the past decacycle, was Optimus. Even Soundwave and Shadowstriker had ended their watches, deeming it safe enough to leave Megatron in the care of Ratchet and Optimus.</p><p>What a self-sacrificing glitch, Ratchet thought. The Prime was a dear friend, but <em> Primus above and below, </em> how he wanted to whack him upside the helm with a wrench a lot of the time.</p><p>“You can’t keep doing this, Optimus,” Ratchet said to his friend as he adjusted the energon drip that was hooked into Megatron’s left arm. “You’re not up to speed yourself.”</p><p>Optimus shifted his gaze up to Ratchet, and quietly said, “I’m perfectly fine.”</p><p>“You’re a glitch, is what you are. You have to make sure you get decent recharge and that you don’t <em> sleep </em> in that makeshift berth. I brought it in for you, thinking you’d be here a night cycle or two. Not a decacycle.” Ratchet’s servos left the energon drip and he placed his fists to his hips as he looked pointedly at Optimus. “Go home.”</p><p>“Ratchet, I’m-”</p><p>“Optimus, <em> go home </em>, and get some recharge in your own berth. Your frame is going to thank you for it.” Ratchet glanced down at Megatron’s placid faceplates. “I’ll comm you the moment there’s any change to his condition.”</p><p>He saw the expression on Optimus’s faceplates, and it looked like Optimus was going to try and be combative again, but then he finally seemed to gain some sense. Optimus slowly got to his pedes and stroked Megatron’s servo.</p><p>“Your devotion is cute, but you need to think about yourself and your bitlet.” Ratchet said those last three words and then started, looking to make sure no one else was watching before he reminded himself that neither Soundwave or Shadowstriker were around. “I’ll let you know the moment something changes, I promise.”</p><p>Optimus gave him a look, and then smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be eager to hear any news.”</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>The journey back to his abode was lonely and quiet. The sky was dark when he left the clinic, the stars shining brightly. No one else was out on the streets of Iacon, and even the few businesses that were up and running were closed for the night cycle.</p><p>Optimus looked up at the stars and sighed heavily, feeling the nighttime wind blow past his frame before he opened the door to the common area, which of course was exactly the way he’d left it since he’d last been home. He wrapped his arms around himself and made his way to his berthroom, but didn’t lie down, simply sitting down on the edge of the berth and staring at the wall opposite him. </p><p>Then he remembered that the last time he’d been here, he’d pulled out a long, frame-length mirror and set it against the wall, which was exactly where he was staring at. He blinked at his reflection in the mirror, then stood up, getting closer to it. He placed his servos on his middle, and then turned to look at his side profile, finding his abdominal plating was now beginning to warp in certain points to accommodate the little life he carried.</p><p>There it was. There <em> she </em> was, now a physical manifestation of his condition instead of a tiny being hidden within the confines of his frame. Now her existence was fighting back against his desire to keep this hidden. How long could he keep getting away with this? </p><p>The answer was now, not much longer. You could only see it if you knew what to look for, but you could see it nonetheless. </p><p>What a selfish and stupid mech he was. He had let his base instinct to hide take over all notion of common sense, and instead of enduring a drizzle of disappointment, he would likely weather a storm of severe admonishment for having kept this precious little sparkling a secret for so long, and keeping his trysts with Megatron secret. </p><p>Well, no, the admonishment would come from having had trysts with Megatron at all. He was so excited about Megatron still being alive, for now, and their impending little one, that he’d forgotten that he <em> shouldn’t </em>have been doing that in the first place.</p><p>Optimus sat back down on the berth and looked at his reflection, as if the answer to all of his problems would come from within the mirror. He closed his optics, and composed a quick message.</p><p>
  <em> All Autobots, please gather at the High Council Chamber construction site at sunrise. I have an announcement that I would like everyone to hear. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -Optimus Prime- </em>
</p><p>.-.-.</p><p>“What do you think this is gonna be about?”</p><p>Jetfire smiled at Arcee as she all but bounced her way over to him and Grimlock, joining the two of them. Grimlock laughed as she hip-checked him, and then gave her a reply. “I’m assuming it might be something related to him going to save Megatron. Maybe tearing down the wall?”</p><p>“Do you really think it’ll be something that drastic?” Arcee asked, arching an optic ridge. </p><p>The shuttle interjected this time. “He went to go save Megatron from himself. I wouldn’t be very surprised if he softened towards the Decepticons.”</p><p>Arcee snorted and gave both mechs a knowing look. “Don’t you mean towards <em> Megatron </em>?”</p><p>“I assumed the connection was there,” Jetfire replied lightly, laughing. “In either case, he’ll likely have a lot of updates about how to handle this delicate truce.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Arcee agreed. “I’m sure the Decepticons can’t be happy about Megatorn being stuck here with the Autobots.”</p><p>“Well, for one, they don’t have a properly equipped facility to bring him out of stasis and help Megatron deal with the aftermath. Two, I’m not sure they even have a medic,” Grimlock pointed out. “But it really could be anything.”</p><p>Jetfire noticed that the crowd immediately in front of the state of Prima went quiet, a silent wave that went on to envelop the rest of the congregated Autobots. On the pedestal, just a little bit above the rest of the crowd, was Optimus. The shuttle sighed and nodded. “Optimus has been incredibly private the past couple of decacycles.”</p><p>Grimlock smiled and crossed his arms over his chassis as he saw more and more Autobots congregate in front of the gleaming statue of Prima. “Well, it is Optimus, after all. Ever the more private one among our little triad.”</p><p>Jetfire had to admit that Grimlock had a point. Even after making the amica thing official with both Grimlock and Optimus, the Prime had always been the quiet one. There were many nights spent celebrating a Cube victory, a promotion, a sparkday, or rather mundane things at Maccadam’s, and though it was evident Optimus was fine being there, Jetfire remembered how Optimus was always the one who preferred to watch everyone have fun, staying silent most of the time.</p><p>The most animated Jetfire had ever seen Optimus was after he’d met Megatron. The gladiator-turned-revolutionary had sparked a fire in Optimus that gave him renewed purpose.</p><p>Then, with the Primacy and the war declared, Jetfire remembered how Optimus had drawn into himself. It seemed after the revival of Cybertron that they would get the slightly more engaged, if awkward, Optimus back, the same Optimus that had been brought forward by Megatron.</p><p>But this silence concerned him, as did the persistent fatigue Optimus seemed to have, and the orders from Ratchet that evidently barred him from heavy labor-</p><p>Jetfire’s processor offered up that same suggestion. He shook it free of his mind as Optimus began to speak.</p><p>“For the past few decacycles, I have been having fatigue and medical orders forbidding me from performing heavy labor. It’s time I explain what happened, and offer myself up for your judgement, which I expect will be…” Optimus trailed off, pursed his lipplates, and then quietly finished with, “quite harsh.”</p><p>There was definite confusion among the Autobots. <em> Harsh judgement? </em> , they seemed to ask themselves. <em> What for? </em></p><p>Jetfire’s processor nagged him with that same, stupid suggestion again. But for once, Jetfire didn’t shove it away. He stared intently at Optimus and then noticed for the first time the minute, very minute changes to his frame.</p><p>It… he was...</p><p>Jetfire felt his spark stall, and then drop, when Optimus said the next three words. “I am sparked.”</p><p>The electromagnetic field of the mech beside him flared out in shock, and then clamped close to his frame. Out of the corner of his optics, he saw Grimlock turn his gaze towards him, saw Arcee’s servos go to her mouth and heard her gasp in shock. Jetfire clenched his jaw and listened as Optimus continued, “I have broken one of the main rules of the ceasefire that we had with the Decepticons, in that I would traverse over the wall to meet up with Megatron, whom of course shares the same blame as I do. As a result, I am carrying and am about a third of the way through my carriage.” </p><p>Jetfire’s senses tuned back into the rest of the crowd and he immediately felt overwhelmed by how everyone else was reacting, and how open their electromagnetic fields were. They all mingled together, amplifying each other’s emotions.</p><p>Emotions of frustration, disappointment, peppered here and there with a bit of excitement.</p><p>But for now, it was mostly frustration. </p><p>A voice managed to come through the flood of emotional fields, and Jetfire heard Grimlock speaking to him. “I think you need to be escorted out of here.”</p><p>The shuttle kept his gaze forward, on Optimus, on his friend that had kept this immense secret from him and his circle of friends. Through clenched dentae, he asked, “What gives you that idea?”</p><p>“Jetfire,” Grimlock seized one of his servos, and it was then that Jetfire’s senses all came back into focus and he realized there was liquid streaming out from around his digits . “Your field is going haywire and you’ve cut into your servos. Come on, I’ll lead you out.”</p><p>Jetfire looked at his servos, unaware of the fact that he’d curled his digits into his palm in the first place, and let himself be led out of and away from the crowd. They didn’t try to be inconspicuous - they were already among the bulkier mechs in the congregation. </p><p>Out of the corner of his optics, he saw that a few bots had their helms turned towards him. He wondered if they were all thinking the same thing.</p><p>He wondered if they were pitying him again.</p><p>The thought made him hurt and angry.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Distrust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here I provide a late Christmas present for those that were looking forward to an update. I'm providing a preemptive warning that there is some further discussion of a character's past miscarriage. Nothing graphic, as usual, but just putting that second warning here as another measure.</p><p>Happy Holidays to everyone, and I hope y'all are staying safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Megatron woke up with a gasp, and tried to sit up, but he found himself being pushed back to the berth. He tried to fight, but the rapid beeping around him made him panic more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then a familiar face loomed in his visual field. It wasn’t quite welcome, but it was familiar, and he knew this mech wouldn’t willingly harm him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Settle down!” Ratchet barked at him as the rapid beeping stopped. Megatron shifted his gaze and realized the beeping had been the monitors raising the alarm on his elevated spark rate. “Can’t have you injuring yourself further. Oh, and welcome back to the land of the online and functional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron gave the medic a very wary look, and then looked at the wires and tubes coming out of his frame, and became aware of the fact that he was in a medical bay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A medical bay. They didn’t have that over where the Decepticons were, not this fully equipped at the very least. That could only mean one thing. He was over on the Autobots’ side of the planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet kept working on and around him, seemingly unfazed by the bright red gaze of Megatron’s one working optic. The medic cleared his vocalizer and answered the question that Megatron hadn’t asked. “You’ve been here for a bit over a decacycle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is Optimus?” the warlord rasped out. Megatron’s spark cried out for its beloved. “Are he and the sparkling-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re fine, and it’s a Primus-damned miracle the sparkling survived with her carrier going off and doing stupid physical slag </span>
  <em>
    <span>like I keep telling him not to,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Ratchet said tersely as he fixed the newest tubes to Megatron’s arm, making sure that they stuck and no normal amount of movement would dislodge them. “Optimus spent a long time here and refused to leave your side. It wasn’t until a solar cycle ago that I finally got the slagger to go home and get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s spark twinged. His beloved had been here this whole time, and he hadn’t been awake for it. He yearned to see Optimus’s sweet faceplates, those soft blue optics looking at him. His last memory had been curling into Optimus and feeling the terrified gaze of the other mech on him, feeling the terrified pulses in their sparkling’s developing electromagnetic field as so much happened around her and she couldn’t obtain comfort from her carrier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to see his beloved, wanted to hold his servo and kiss him and feel around on Optimus’s middle for their little one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The medic stopped, and gave him a look. A loose tube hung in his servo. “For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron didn’t quite believe that he’d thanked an Autobot medic for saving his life, but now that he had dug this little hole, he continued. “For keeping me online. I am thanking you for… keeping me online.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet stared for a moment longer, and then made a scoffing noise and waved the servo that held the tube, seeming not to notice that it nearly smacked Megatron in the face. “Duty and programming to help. And also it’s in everyone’s best interests that you stay online because then we’ll lose Optimus more and he’ll be stressed out, probably could lose the bitlet, that could compound things, and, well.” Ratchet tied the tube up, which Megatron just realized was the old tube that had been attached to his arm, and tossed it into a waste receptacle. “Hmm. I didn’t think I’d ever say that saving your boltheaded aft would be a good thing, but here I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron tried to smile, but it sapped more energy from him than he’d expected, and he pressed his helm against the mesh cushion and closed his optics. He sighed. “Am I… able to accept visitors?” he asked weakly, when he could find his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet answered the question that Megatron intended to ask after that. “I’ve already pinged Optimus. He’s on his way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Prima was now his only company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared up at the face of the Prime, his processor replaying the conversation he’d had with his mentee as the crowd thinned out following his announcement.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You kept this from us? You could have hurt yourself!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I had my reasons, Hot Rod.” Even to his own audio receptors, his voice sounded so meek, and his excuse weak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, and the reasons were that you were holding yourself to another standard from the rest of us. Primus,” Hot Rod threw his servos up in the air. “I can’t get over my mentor going and fragging Megatron of all bots, and keeping a sparkling secret. Why? Why did you keep this from me? We’re supposed to learn from each other!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Why, indeed. Optimus had spent so much time cultivating the trust in his Autobots and had endeavoured to keep it. His inability to keep his panels closed, valve and forge empty, spark unmerged, had gotten him into this mess, and while it had taken many stellar cycles of action and leadership to earn everyone’s trust… he watched it all but dissipate in a matter of nanokliks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Jetfire. Oh, Jetfire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logically he’d known from the start that revealing this indiscretion to his amicas would be better and save pain further down the line. But he’d seen how Jetfire’s face had taken on that expression, one that conveyed that he was holding back a sudden surge of emotions, and of course it was hard to miss Grimlock leading Jetfire away from the congregation of Autobots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered where they were. He’d wanted to go after them when he saw them leave, but he had to stay behind and attempt more damage control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped they were still somewhere on the construction site, in a secluded corner where Jetfire could vent at Grimlock. Grimlock had always been the better listener between him and Optimus, though he remembered the dino mech telling him to cease being so hard on himself - he had enough on his plate as is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt a sting of pain on behalf of the shuttle mech. How upset he must be. He put himself into his amica’s position, imagined it was someone else keeping that secret from him for that long, and felt his spark sink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From within, he felt the sparkling move. It was a very light, gentle flutter that felt like the sparkling both comforting him and encouraging him to go find his amicas and talk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he got to his pedes to go look for the other mechs, however, a request came through on his communication link. Optimus checked and saw that the request was from Ratchet. Feeling his spark jolt in anxiety, Optimus approved the request and let the call come through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet didn’t let Optimus even greet him before the medic said, ::Optimus? He’s awake. He’s asking for you:: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt his spark stop, and after responding that he’d be there quickly, he turned in the direction of the clinic and hurried there, nodding at whichever Autobots he passed on the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. That was stupid. I can’t believe I reacted-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jetfire? You’re fine. Please talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire blinked his optics and then looked up at his amica, who sat across from him on a makeshift seat made of slabs of concrete. Jetfire had the actual seat. He moved his servos from his face to grip at the edges of the seat and let out an ex-vent that he didn’t realize he’d been holding in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said after a few moments, when he’d steadied his voice. “I don’t know why I acted like that, and why I still feel like this.” Jetfire checked on the gouges he’d made in his palms and saw that they had ceased leaking energon. His voice cracked as he said, “I’m hurt that Optimus kept something like this a secret from us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It looks like we’re all hurt,” Grimlock said, voice sounding a little bit bitter. Then he seemed to realize the uniqueness of the situation, and quickly added, “But I know it has to hurt you in a very particular way, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire gave his amica a wan smile that he knew didn’t reach his optics, and looked up at the sky that was slowly getting bluer and bluer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He kept this secret from us. Time and time again we have had to tell him that we are his amicas for a reason,” Jetfire vented softly. “Him keeping this a secret...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of the gazes from everyone, from back then and from now. It was the same sad, pitying gazes from the same bots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time in a long, long time, he felt a minor twinge in his spark. He lifted one of his servos and placed it over his chassis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never had a chance to properly come to terms with it,” Jetfire said softly, staring at a point on the ground and trying not to meet Grimlock’s concerned gaze. “How could I? The last bot to have gone through losing a sparkling before emergence had gone to the Well long prior. For the longest time after, when I showed my face… I can only remember everyone looking at me with pity. Even you and Optimus. And it made me feel alone.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Going after Sky-Byte alone was less isolating than walking into a room of Autobots and hearing them go silent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Grimlock pause. “How was that less isolating?” the dino mech asked, clearly confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire thought of the pitying gazes again, and the sudden silences that followed him where he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Grimlock, I know everyone refused to speak about sparklings around me. Even as a concept.” Jetfire reopened his optics, placed his servos on his knees, and met his amica’s optics. “I remember being outside a room, where my audio receptors picked up conversations about sparkling. And I remember when I entered a room, how everyone would fall silent. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to talk about how I failed her in that short time I knew her.” Then his voice faltered and he looked away. “But no one wanted to hear me. So instead I chose to go after Sky-Byte. Better to be alone in reality than to feel alone, even surrounded by other bots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his peripheral vision, Jetfire could see Grimlock’s posture change, as the dino mech’s shoulders slumped a little bit. He remembered how Optimus and Grimlock would look at him, with that pity that he hated in their optics. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want their pity. He never did. He just wanted to talk and have someone listen to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for having made you feel that you were alone,” Grimlock said in a soft voice. “I thought… I believe Optimus and I thought the best way to help you move on was to not address it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That might have worked for Optimus when he asked for us to stop asking him how he was after the war started,” Jetfire said a little tersely, before remembering that Grimlock was apologizing and not being at all defensive. He softened his tone. “I know there was no malice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we still made you feel alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire reflexively wanted to reassure his friend that no, they hadn’t, before realizing that the conversation had already taken that route. He wasn’t going to reassure Grimlock with what was an obvious lie. “Yes. You both did.” He tried to refrain from saying the next few words but they spilled out, “I wanted to sever my amica bonds with the both of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hurt look in Grimlock’s optics pained Jetfire. The shuttle mech quickly added, “I felt that I couldn’t tell you both how I felt, and amicas are supposed to be open with one another. Instead I asked Optimus if I could go after Sky-Byte. So I went.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More silence passed between them. Somehow, Jetfire felt both lighter and freer that he had finally admitted how he’d felt all this long time, how much it had pained him to keep quiet for the sake of everyone else who was uncomfortable acknowledging what he had been through, but now his spark felt heavy as he thought of Optimus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His instincts had been right all along. He’d known, deep down, but had refused to consider the option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, this. He would have to have words with Optimus later, though he assumed much of those words would be the exact same that the other bots may have had for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry,” Grimlock finally spoke, breaking the silence. “I am… I’m glad you’re telling me now. Is there anything that Optimus and I can do to make this better? Or perhaps myself, since Optimus is not here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if there’s anything Optimus can do.” Jetfire stared at his servos on his knee joints, and shook his helm. “If everyone else’s responses are anything to go by, he’s lost everyone’s trust. He will have to try and regain it, if that’s still possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimlock made a noise. “That’s quite the understatement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus ran into Ratchet as he rushed into the clinic, and he must have had a wild look about his optics, as the medic rolled his own optics and pointed down the hall. “Same room you left him in. Don’t mess anything up, for Primus’s sake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s optics had been closed the moment he opened the door, but they quickly snapped open and focused on him as Optimus stood in the doorway. The Prime nudged the door to get it to close behind him, and then rushed to his beloved’s side, immediately kissing Megatron. He felt fluid trickle out of his optics as he put his servos on the back of Megatron’s helm and kept him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other mech’s spark pulse increased and made the spark monitor beep. A few moments later, Ratchet burst through the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the frag-” he began, yelling, before the spark monitor ceased beeping so rapidly as both Optimus and Megatron looked at the medic with wide optics, as if they were younglings caught doing something they shouldn’t have been. Ratchet sighted in frustration and then left, grumbling in undertone about how that was how they’d gotten into this mess in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus couldn’t argue with him about that. He sat in the seat that he’d vacated only just recently and took Megatron’s servo into his, smiling at the other mech, spark so overwhelmed with joy that he was no longer stuck in stasis lock. He was alive. They both were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s red optic looked at him with adoration and intense love. He opened his mouth, and Optimus could see how much of a struggle it was for him to even speak as Megatron said, “You saved me. You saved Cybertron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime gave his beloved a wan smile. “It wasn’t only myself. Others helped, but Windblade was especially instrumental,” he said. After a moment of quiet, he then quipped, “My favor to you is repaid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Megatron laugh. “Repaid ten times over,” he countered. Then a look of concern came over his already-exhausted faceplates. “And our little one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost as if in response, the sparkling moved, the motions a light flutter that Optimus would have missed had he not been paying attention. He stroked the back of Megatron’s servo with the pad of his thumb before shifting his position to allow the other mech easier access to his middle. Megatron’s servo splayed out on the plating, his digits shifting around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re beginning to show,” Megatron said softly. “She’s real.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime covered Megatron’s servo with his, stilling the other mech. “She’s been “real” for a while,” he said, tone a little more harsh than he’d meant. “We simply can’t keep her existence a secret anymore.” He sighed, and then remembered that he should tell Megatron what he had done. “I told my Autobots about this. They know. I expect the news might make its way to your Decepticons at some point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw Megatron close his optics and heard his exasperated sight. “I’m sure your Autobots took the news well,” Megatron grumped, undoubtedly thinking of the storm that was going to drown him when he was able to hold his own and go back to the other side of the wall. “Except your amica, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus wondered if Megatron had already forgotten their conversation from what felt like ages ago. Both had admitted that they would be facing some harsh judgement - undoubtedly Megatron moreso than Optimus, but the Prime would not be out of the fire. And he’d been correct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if everyone yelling at him instead of being incredibly stern and upset would have been any better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Contrary to what you may think,” Optimus said quietly but firmly, and Megatron turned his helm to look at his beloved, “not every Autobot immediately accepted my Primacy when the Matrix was bestowed on me.” Optimus looked out the window, and Megatron saw the faraway look fall into Optimus’s optics. “I had to work hard to earn the trust of a number of Autobots. They wondered what my claim to the Matrix, and the Primacy, was, besides the word of Alpha Trion. Over time, I believed I did manage to convert most of them, though some still seemed to doubt. But now…” he trailed off, but Megatron didn’t need Optimus to finish his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d likely lost that trust that had been maintained for millions of stellar cycles. Megatron knew his Decepticons would likely fall out of line once they heard the news, if they hadn’t by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron made a soft snorting noise, prompting Optimus to turn and look at him. The Prime arched an optic ridge momentarily. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Megatron said with a faint hint of amusement in his voice. He reached one of his arms out and stroked his digits along Optimus’s face. “Only thinking of how we are both in the same situation, once again. Just as we were when we began to lead, here we are in the twilight of our leadership, having lost the trust of both of our armies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared at him for a moment, blinked his optics, and then he gave a slightly bitter laugh. He then addressed the other point that Megatron had tried to make. “And to the point of Jetfire, he didn’t take the news well, it seemed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Megatron hummed as he settled back into the mesh cushions of the berth. “What did he say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Optimus said. “He and Grimlock left the premises before I could catch up to them.” He sighed deeply. “I expect I’ll be hearing more about it later. I meant to try and find him, but Ratchet let me know that you were awake, so I came here.” He pursed his lipplates and shook his helm. “I know I brought all of this upon myself,” Optimus sighed. “But between this, having to oversee reconstruction, and wondering in the back of my mind where Starscream is… it is more than I thought I would have to handle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron blinked his optic at him and shakily cleared his vocalizer. “Where does… he fit into this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus squeezed the servo he held in his and turned his gaze to Megatron. “I had wanted to tell you the last time we met, before the whole alternate-you debacle, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. Wheeljack discovered the remnants of the Quintesson Judge that Starscream comprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Starscream wasn’t among the remains?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By some otherworldly power, perhaps,” Optimus replied bitterly. He closed his optics and shook his helm. “We don’t know where to even begin looking for him. Wheeljack is having his drones scout every inch of Autobot territory on Cybertron, but that will still take some time. For all we may know, he could be-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the Decepticon side of things,” Megatron grumped. He knew what he had to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime looked at him and nodded, giving a wan smile. “He wanted to make us pay for whatever crimes we may have committed against him,” Optimus said softly. “He has shown, on two prior occasions, that he is fine mangling himself if it gives him power to enact retribution.” He took a deep in-vent and then ex-vented. “Were it just the both of us, I know we could handle what comes our way. But,” he trailed off a moment and placed a servo on his middle, “we have to find him. Before he can do something more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both mechs fell into silence. Megatron did his best to make space on his berth for the Prime, and let Optimus lie next to him and rest his helm on his chassis. Megatron thumbed the tips of Optimus’s finials, both their engines humming as they tried to rest but failed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The news truly traveled like a match set alight and put to a river of oil. Megatron had to wonder which Autobot had spilled the cyberbeans to which Decepticon. If he were a betting mech, he would have bet that Clobber had blabbed to Lockdown. Lockdown couldn’t keep a secret if his survival depended on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere in Croaton City was thick, heavy akin to having multiple static blankets piled on your frame while feeling none of the comfort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus had wanted to come with him, to show that Megatron was not lying and that they truly were expecting a sparkling. Megatron steadfastly refused his mate’s request, saying that he had to face this alone. He thought that if Optimus had come, the Prime would have been a buffer against the thick hostility that Megatron could feel from the other Decepticons that watched him approach the dais that Sky-Byte loved to recite his terrible haikus from, to anyone that would deign to give him an audio receptor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron ascended the platform and turned so he faced the slowly-growing crowd of Decepticons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have a chance to speak before Sky-Byte’s heavily accented voice called out to him. “What a pleasant surprise that they let you come back here.” But he could tell from the tone of the shark mech’s voice that it wasn’t exactly as pleasant a surprise as he’d said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tank mech cut to the chase. “How did the news get here?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chassis. “Clobber blabbed to Lockdown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron clenched and then unclenched his jaw, curling his servos into fists, and then uncurling them. He rolled his helm slightly, feeling his neck crack, the noise echoing in the terrible silence surrounding them. “So I suppose my coming over here was not exactly needed, if you’ve been told about my lack of conduct.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, not really,” Dead End replied, seemingly speaking on behalf of everyone else. He uncrossed his arms and his pale optics glared at him. “But it’s nice to see the face of the slagger that couldn’t keep it behind his panels and went and knocked up the Autobot Prime. Wanted to tell him how much he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>frag off</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those last two words ignited something in the other Decepticons, who began to shout their grievances at Megatron. Many of them were the same - how dare he do this behind their backs, how dare he hold himself to a different standard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He imagined it was much the same type of reaction that Optimus had gotten from the Autobots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soundwave was so incensed that the displays on his shoulder struts showed no activity. Shadowstriker was just behind Dead End, her arms crossed over her chassis, face showing barely contained rage. The blaster holstered on her frame suddenly seemed a little more threatening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron held his own as he glared down at Dead End, who was asking, “What was all that posturing then? Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron curled his servos into fists as Dead End continued, “The fragging war, tearing this fragging planet apart, killing to find that blasted AllSpark even after your </span>
  <em>
    <span>beloved Prime </span>
  </em>
  <span>shot the Primus-forsaken thing into space. I waited, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we waited</span>
  </em>
  <span>, eons for you to come back with that damned thing, and for what?” Dead End made a gesture as he motioned to the Decepticons around him. “Hope that Prime valve was worth more than everything you stood for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Megatron could blink, one of his servos connected with Dead End’s face. He looked down at the sprawled mech, then to the fist he held aloft. He could feel everyone’s stares boring into him. Unfurling his digits, he let his servo drop to his side, and took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to apologize for hitting Dead End. He could feel everyone’s heated stares on him, but he kept his gaze on Dead End as the other mech got to his pedes, one knee wobbling a bit as he straightened himself up. He could hear Optimus’s voice in his audio receptor telling him to apologize. But, he couldn’t bring himself to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost all of us,” Dead End hissed, “came from the same mines you did. We saw each other at our worst and at our best. We celebrated when someone was able to get out and go into the arena - better to die in the light than in the dark by fire, you said. We rallied behind you. We’ve gone to the Pit and back to give you the best chance at victory, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is how you repay us?” He shook his helm. “Glad to see that you found something more worthy than your cause.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron wanted to retort that Optimus was worth ten of him, and worth at least twenty of any Decepticon, but had the prudence to hold his glossa. He’d set himself aflame already, and there was no need to add to the fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did what I did,” Megatron said. “It is done and there is no going back from my actions.” He flexed his digits. “ Optimus and I are going to be creators, and I will not be walking away from him or our little one. And this brings me to my point that I came here to make.” He let tense silence fall over the congregation before continuing, “The wall will be deactivated, and it is my expectation that everyone - both Autobots </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> Decepticons - do their part in helping Cybertron flourish once again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> prompted everyone to loudly complain, the protests that were the same type they’d given when they were ordered to work together to take down the Quintessons and Starscream. He wasn’t interested in listening to them, so Megatron made a noise deep in his chassis that got them all to quiet down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus and I spent eons trying to outdo the other. Our vendettas run deep. Still, we managed to cooperate beforehand, if only for brief periods of time, so I expect the same out of all of you. If you do not wish to heed my orders,” Megatron growled, “the planet is vast. There are undiscovered swathes. You may leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a beat of silence. From the back, four Decepticons assumed their vehicular modes, and two from somewhere smack in the center of the crowd made their way to the edges, and Megatron paid them no mind as they ventured away. He didn’t know their names, and if he remembered them at a later point, he knew that they were clearly unimportant and would barely be missed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attention turned back to those that were still congregated. “Clearly the community and comforts of home are a much bigger priority for you all. Soundwave, you will be contacted by Wheeljack for your maps of our side of Cybertron. Skywarp, you and your Seekers will join with the Autobot fliers on their patrol of the skies, and they will join you with yours.” He then turned to Dead End again. “Dead End, you and Sky-Byte will start allocating our construction materials for the Autobots’ needs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte made a noise of protest. Dead End, however, just closed his optics, shook his helm, and turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” Megatron demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End turned and glared at him. “When that wall goes down, the first time I’m doing is going to see the only Autobot I can stand. Hear he’s got a good bar up and going, where we don’t fragging have one. Got a problem with that? Wait, you don’t have a pede to stand on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much as Megatron hated to admit it, Dead End was very much in the right. He watched the other mech walk away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling was a little more active than usual as Optimus made his way over to the construction site for the Hall of Records. Her electromagnetic field wavered in and out, but was very excited in nature, and the flutters that Optimus felt in his forge would intensify every few beats. He wondered what she was doing in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his way to the construction site, he saw a number of Autobots milling about. He smiled at them, and most of them returned the smile in kind, but a few seemed wary. One gave him a harsh look before pointedly turning around so his back was to Optimus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurt Optimus slightly. But he knew it was to be expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed by the remnants of places he remembered frequenting that were by the Hall. The little market for pets, holding petro-rabbits and cybercats and techno-birds. He remembered stroking the backs of the cats and smiling fondly as their frames arched in the air, and how the birds flew around him, sometimes perching on the tips of his finials. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And next to it was the large building that had held a marketplace, packed with stalls, merchants calling out to sell their wares, and at times gaggles of younglings running through the stands, causing such adorable mischief. He would sometimes see them run into their creators, and it further stirred that longing he felt in his spark for a sparkling of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitlet seemed to sense his thoughts, and sent him a little pulse of what felt like reassurance. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled to himself and continued walking by, venturing past the boarded up remains of a treat shop and an antiques store that he used to peruse during his mid-day breaks, admiring the old trinkets, some of which were not of Cybertronian origin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime assured himself that activity would return. Perhaps there would be bots willing to stock the marketplace, perhaps a treat shop would open up again, and once trade would expand again, there could be another antiques shop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling quivered. Optimus placed a servo on his middle and continued walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hoping we can get more construction completed before you arrive,” he said softly. “The only cultural venue that has been completely rebuilt at this time is Maccadam’s, and that’s not quite a place for a sparkling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the distance he could see the high towers of Iacon getting closer, which meant that he was getting closer and closer to the Hall of Records.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, his processor retrieved a memory, walking down this exact same path with everything intact, looking at Megatron as he took in the sights of Iacon for the first time. There had been one particular place that Megatron had loved - and thankfully it was close to the Hall of Records.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of turning left at the former erotic specialty store - he was quite embarassed that he’d even remembered what the bombed out remains used to be - he took a right, going a block down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there it was. The remnants of the Crystal Gardens of Iacon, two blocks down from where the Hall of Records had been. Once a bustling attraction for both tourists and locals, Optimus had mourned when the glowing shards had been bombed in one of numerous Decepticon bombing runs on the city during the early days of the war; all that had remained were tiny shards, the biggest pieces only as big as a finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared at the faded walkways that had been trod in the ground from millenia of bots walking around the crystal clusters, looking at the stone tiers that had held the largest clusters as smaller ones grew around them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He recalled the colorful glow in Megatron’s face as he’d brought him here for the first time when they’d become acquainted. Megatron had been like those sparklings in the marketplace, when they would see something so amazing that wonder filled their optics. It had broken Optimus’s spark to see this place, that had held so many memories, in pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as he was about to turn and head to the construction site, he caught sight of something glinting in the dirt. He turned his helm towards the source, and when it glinted again, he cautiously made his way over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a piece of crystal, glowing a light pink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus got to his knees and dug out the crystal, holding it up to the sky to get a closer look at it. It was thick, about the size of three of his digits pressed together, and as long as his finger and palm together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to it, another glint. A purple crystal. He brushed away some of the dirt covering it, further exposing it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered if there was a chance to propagate these crystals. Perhaps, at a future time, he and Megatron might be able to bring their little one to the Gardens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t you be resting, Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus started, and turned his helm around, spark settling but tanks growing a little uneasy when he saw that it was Jetfire. He got to his pedes, holding the pink crystal in his servos as he made his way over to his amica. “I’m cleared for light physical activity. I’m sure Ratchet told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire stared at him for a moment, with a blank expression on his face, and then turned and walked in the direction of the Hall. Optimus looked down at the crystal in his servos, put the shard in his subspace, and then walked after the shuttle mech, catching up to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both mechs walked in a tense silence for a block, before Optimus felt that he should be the one to break the tension. Resetting his vocalizer, he said, “I noticed that you left with Grimlock. Earlier than everyone else d-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire’s interruption came in a flat voice. “I believe everyone noticed. It’s not that hard to miss him and I bowing out of a gathering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That threw Optimus off. He tried to reorient himself as they came to the construction site, where a number of Autobots were already throwing materials around to reconstruct the walls to encase the shattered floors and shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arcee and Hot Rod were busy gathering up a number of datapads that had been scattered around over the millenia. Optimus wondered if they still worked - as the last surviving senior archivist, with no idea if any of the lower tier archivists had survived, he would likely be undertaking this endeavour of making sure the datapads were functional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spark panged at the thought of even one being found malfunctional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hey Optimus,” Hot Rod said, tone of voice a little bit unsure, and not the usual character for the incredibly go-lucky mech. Optimus wasn’t sure if he preferred this Hot Rod over the one that had been incredibly stern with him the morning of his revelation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled and nodded at him. “Hello, Hot Rod.” He then shifted his gaze to Arcee, who had her back turned to him. “It is nice to see you Arcee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arcee turned to face him and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her optics before she turned back to neatly organizing the stacks of datapads into a container.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other bots that were on site stared at him and shared uncomfortable looks among themselves. Optimus felt uneasy about having gone to the construction site, and wondered if it would be in his best interests to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since you’re cleared for light duty,” Jetfire’s voice broke Optimus out of his thought train, and the Prime blinked at the shuttle, “then as site supervisor, I’ll give you your choice of helping Arcee and Hot Rod sort the datapads, or you can start inspecting each datapad for functionality.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked at the containers of datapads that had already been filled. Either task that he chose would still make his eventual job of cataloguing all these datapads and sorting them by subject matter difficult. Resetting his vocalizer, he replied, “I’ll begin inspecting each datapad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire nodded curtly and turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jetfire. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those three words made Jetfire tense. He then turned to face him, expression on his face shifting from confusion to stricken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus continued. “I kept this secret from you, specifically, because I didn’t know how you would handle it. I thought you might be angry with me for being sparked up before you could have your own sparkling, along with… my liaisons with Megatron.” He went quiet and carefully watched the other mech’s expressions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then that Optimus noticed that the other bots on site had stopped what they were doing, their full attention now on the both of them. He looked around, meeting all their gazes, watching them balk as he looked at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would not have been mad if you had told me about your carriage,” Jetfire said in a low voice. “I’m happy for you. I know you have wanted a youngling of your own for far, far longer than I did.” The shuttle mech gave a small smile that actually reached his optics for a brief moment before the smile waned. “But you must understand that I would have been hurt no matter how you told me that you were going to have a sparkling. I lost mine. It would have hurt. I can feel joy and hurt simultaneously. What compounded that hurt it was you keeping it </span>
  <em>
    <span>secret </span>
  </em>
  <span>for this long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked at his amica and gently reached a servo out, placing it on Jetfire’s upper arm. The shuttle paused, placed his own servo over Optimus’s for a moment before gently removing the Prime’s servo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The apology is appreciated, and I forgive you, Optimus,” Jetfire said quietly, and then this time he was the one to look around, and Optimus saw a look of severe discomfort come over his faceplates, and the shuttle’s posture changed. He seemed to draw into himself a little bit. “But I hope you understand if I can’t really be around right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without waiting for Optimus to respond, Jetfire took on his shuttle mode and shot up into the sky, out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The construction site was eerily quiet for a moment, and then Arcee tossed a datapad into the container nearest her. “Well, there goes our site supervisor,” she said, acid in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared at the sky, at the spot where Jetfire had been before he took a turn and disappeared from sight. After a few moments, he lowered his helm and saw that some - not all, but some - of the Autobots were looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. He would be expected to take over if Jetfire weren’t here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Proceed with whatever it was that Jetfire asked you to do,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of them did so, turning back to their assigned tasks. Optimus then turned again to Hot Rod and Arcee. They looked at him, then at each other, then back at him. Arcee was the first to speak. “If you’re done giving weak apologies to Jetfire,” she said, “then Hot Rod and I have our grievances to air.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime closed his optics, asked Primus for patience, and then reopened his optics. “I know most of you will have words for me.” He nodded at the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well where to start,” Hot Rod said, arms crossed over his chassis. “If you’re down for the count, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you should have me take over command. You keeping this secret not only violated the trust everyone had in </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but makes me feel like you didn’t think I was prepared to take command.” He put his servos on his hips. “And that’s just me. Jetfire was pissed that you kept this secret from him and Grimlock. You don’t have to deal with everything alone, Optimus. We’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>told you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt his spark shrink, and he wanted to shrink into himself and activate his facemask. He felt as uncomfortable as he had during the surprise party aboard the Ark, but instead of everyone giving him (what he felt were undeserved) salutations for leading them through the long search for the AllSpark, he was being reprimanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he more than deserved it. He didn’t like it, but he deserved it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of his processor wanted to dwell on the fact that if he hadn’t given into his base desire to sneak out and frag Megatron, they never would have been in this situation. Then, the sparkling moved, and he shut down that train of thought. She was here, and nothing would change that, and he would not have it any other way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything that I can do,” he asked hesitantly, “to regain the trust that I have lost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arcee flexed her digits at her side, and then sighed and looked at Hot Rod, who took a moment to think and then replied. “I don’t know about everyone else, but maybe if you keep being as honest with us as you were before this whole thing,” Hot Rod said, waving a servo as he turned back to picking up scattered datapads. “And that’s a big maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A big maybe. But Optimus would take it. He sat next to the first full container and pulled out the first datapad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the recent stresses, Optimus’s spark felt significantly lighter when this datapad came online. He looked up and met Arcee’s gaze. He turned the datapad around to show her that it still worked fine, and she smiled and nodded before turning to help Hot Rod again with retrieving datapads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped the rest of them would follow suit.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Planting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My present to everyone on this day of my 27th birthday - another chapter! I had some portions of this chapter written before I posted the last chapter, which helped me post this one in quicker fashion. There is more discussion of Jetfire and what he went through with regard to losing his little bit, and a bit of a time skip later on ^^</p><p>The chapter count has also been increased, as this will be more than 12 chapters. May wind up being more than 15, but that will be something I'll have to figure out.</p><p>I appreciate your readership, and everyone please continue being safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>The heat of the explosion still licked at his armor as Jetfire swung a servo at the shark mech, snarling.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It connected, and Sky-Byte fell backwards, stumbling. He lifted his servo to his face and backed up more, his arm lifting and the cannon coming online.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire easily ducked the shot and barreled into Sky-Byte, knocking the other mech completely off his pedes and sending them flying into the dirt that coated this wayward moon. How it had survived the supernova, Jetfire wondered. It was likely knocked out of its orbit around its host planet, the force of the supernova blast having destroyed multiple planets and their moons. Perhaps this one was one of the furthest moons on the furthest planet, and that was how it had survived.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte punched him square in the jaw and Jetfire grunted in pain, trying to shake it off, but a moment later he was shaken off by the shark mech as Sky-Byte tried to scramble away. Jetfire held on, however, using his mass to pin the other mech down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There was no need,” he hissed as he punched Sky-Byte, “to destroy </span>
  </em>
  <span>seven </span>
  <em>
    <span>planets, seven civilizations! Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The shark mech grunted in pain and gave him a look as if it should have been incredibly obvious. “To blast you away with them all, that’s why!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire swung at Sky-Byte again and the shark bot kicked him off successfully this time, hopping to his pedes and taking on his aerial mode, flying. In response, Jetfire took on his shuttle form and chased him down. He had to make him pay. Sky-Byte had to pay for all those that he’d offlined, and now, for the multitudes that he’d sent to their deaths with this one supernova explosion. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire crashed into Sky-Byte, sending the other mech tumbling to the ground. He followed him down, taking on his bipedal form mid-air and landing directly on Sky-Byte’s middle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The other mech groaned, and tried to squirm out from underneath, but then he stopped and his optics widened. He pointed up into the starry sky above them. “Watch out!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t going to fall for that. Jetfire made to aim his blaster at Sky-Byte-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And was swiftly met with a hard object hitting his back, knocking him down. He looked up and saw that he and Sky-Byte were face-to-face, and he recoiled, and then saw a smattering of little rocks around Sky-Byte that hadn’t been there before. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then something else hit the back of his helm. Jetfire rolled over swiftly and looked at the dark sky above them. Rocks filled the sky and were heading towards them, pulled in by the moon’s gravity.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Meteoroids!” he gasped, scrambling to his pedes and allowing Sky-Byte the opportunity to do so as well. They both began running in the same direction. As they ran, Jetfire glared at the other mech and angrily accused him. “This is your doing! If you hadn’t blown the system up, we wouldn’t have this!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Silence, philistine!” Sky-Byte snarled in response. He looked ahead, and pointed. Jetfire followed his servo to where he was pointing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just ahead was a gaping entrance to a cave. It would be a shelter from the storm, though part of his processor questioned the wisdom of going for safety with the mech that he was trying to offline, and vice versa.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte ran ahead of him, and Jetfire followed. It occurred to him that he could just jump the other mech right now and cuff him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Both mechs ducked into the cave, and Jetfire was so happy to feel the pelting of tiny space rocks cease. He looked at Sky-Byte’s back, and raised his weapon-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only for Sky-Byte to whip around and aim his own cannon at him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had been too slow. Jetfire cursed his hesitation. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte hissed and then said, “We’ll both lay our weapons down, and cease fire until this storm has passed. Capice?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire took note of the cave’s layout. Technically Sky-Byte was cornered, but he was quick at taking on his air-capable alt-mode, and he had much less bulk to him than Jetfire did. He could easily get away even with his back to a wall.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It had happened before, and it could happen again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Chassis heaving, Jetfire nodded, and then lowered the weapon to his side and fell to the ground on his knees. He crawled over to one side of the cave, back against it, but keeping his weapon nearby just in case. Staring out the entrance at the meteor shower pummeling the lonely moon, he put a servo over his chassis and pressed down, grimacing, processor focusing on his spark and the twinge of pain that flared up.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Psychosomatic. A few hundred stellar cycles had passed by now, since he’d fallen from the sky and lost a part of his spark. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte sat down as well, crossing one leg over the other, pressing his back against the wall opposite Jetfire so they faced each other. Jetfire looked up, took note of how the other mech was positioned, and then looked back down at where he was pressing his palm against his chassis.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did I injure you?” Sky-Byte somehow sounded a little… concerned.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire shook his helm, both in the negative at Sky-Byte’s question, and at the thought that his nemesis might actually be expressing some concern for him. He looked up, and kept the pressure on the plating over his spark. “No. It’s… just a pain I live with. It flares up every once in a while.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“In your spark? Hmph. Have you gotten it checked by a medic, I wonder.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thoroughly annoyed, Jetfire scoffed. “It’s nothing that will kill me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you certain about that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain,” Jetfire responded through gritted dentae. “I know what the cause is, and it didn’t kill me. Physically, at the very least.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He saw Sky-Byte stare at him, could see the look in the other mech’s optics that he was trying to figure out his cryptic statement. Jetfire regretted saying it. He’d learned over time that no one would be interested in hearing him talk about it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And it was why he was out here alone, even though he sorely missed his friends, his Amica. Better to be alone than to deal with the sudden silences and the pitying gazes.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte was now looking away, out the cave and at the rocks falling where they would have been pelted and likely injured depending on the size of the biggest meteoroid.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire sighed and moved his servo away from his chassis. “I was sparked. Very briefly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In his peripheral vision, he saw Sky-Byte’s helm snap in his direction, the other mech looking at him with something that - at least from what Jetfire could tell - looked like surprise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What… what ha-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I said “very briefly.” I lost my sparkling,” Jetfire interrupted him, continuing to stare at the ceiling of the cave they were both in. “I was shot down in the early days of the war, and only when I was being stabilized by a medic did I learn I was in the early stages of carriage.” He gave a rueful grin, mostly for himself. “The coding from the date of forging that I was shown later said that Starscream and I were going to have a femme.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte made a motion like he was pitching forward, to curl into himself. A bark of laughter echoed in their shelter. “You and Starscream? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Starscream and I,” Jetfire said bitterly. “I don’t know why everyone makes such a fuss.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wasn’t aware Starscream could care about anyone other than himself.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That statement made Jetfire laugh, possibly for the first time since he’d left the Autobots to chase down his captive. “Don’t be fooled. He can’t. He didn’t have the decency to give me a goodbye as he fragged off to the Decepticons the morning after we last lay together, after we last merged our sparks and he swore he would stay with me no matter what. He’s always on his own side,” he concluded, bitterness in his voice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then it finally occurred to Jetfire whom he was speaking to, and then he reset his vocalizer and looked at Sky-Byte. “It would be appreciated if you said nothing.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte stared at him, and then laughed. “Hardly any Decepticons speak to me unless they have to, save for Megatron. And this is none of his business.” He pulled his legs up to his chassis and loosely draped his arms over his knees, clicking his glossa against his sharp dentae. “I won’t say a word.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire wasn’t sure how much he could trust Sky-Byte, but the words had been spoken. If Sky-Byte said anything, ultimately it was on him for not judging the situation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I never got the chance myself,” Sky-Byte said after a few moments of silence. “Not once have I met someone that I would love to create sparklings with.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The thought of Sky-Byte having sparklings that looked and acted like him sent a bit of an ugly shudder up Jetfire’s spinal strut, but the shuttle kept his expression as neutral as he could as he listened to the shark mech. “Once there may have been a chance, before the war began. I was getting rather serious with someone, but now…,” Sky-Byte trailed off, and then snorted. “It’d be most unwise.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire stared, and then thought of his own lost chance. Before he could ask Sky-Byte any questions - about who the other bot was, why he wanted a sparkling of his own - the shark mech beat him to it. “Had you always wanted a little one of your own?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He had to think about it. He hadn’t been asked that question. Not in the aftermath of the event, not on the Ark. Not when everyone seemed to be confused on how to interact with him after it all. Jetfire pressed his servo to his chassis again as he felt the twinge return. “I never gave it a lot of thought. In those few seconds between being told that I was carrying and that I was losing the newspark, I grew an attachment to her. I felt hope.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The meteoroids still streaked in the sky outside the cave. Jetfire paused, and held onto that little bit of hope that still remained from so long ago.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I still dream about her at times,” Jetfire continued, a soft smile on his faceplates. “I wonder what she would have been like. Like myself or Starscream? Would she have gone into the sciences as we did, or done something else entirely? What would she have looked like, physically?” He leaned back against the rocky wall and sighed. “I dreamt of teaching her how to walk, how to run, and how to fly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The truth was, he still did. Jetfire thought of all the lessons she would never get to go through, of the joy in his spark that he’d feel when he would see her fly for the first time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The dreams came less and less often as time came on and the pain lessened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wondered if she would visit him later, during recharge, now that she was back on his processor after a few solar cycles of being recessed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know why I’m telling you about her,” he said when he realized the extent of what he’d said. “I never told this to my own amica, or any of the other Autobots. They treated me with coldness and silence when I wanted to talk, so hence why I started coming after you. To be alone.” He snorted. “So I don’t know why I’m telling you about it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sky-Byte gave him a smile - it was an actual, genuine smile, Jetfire realized much to his horror and relief - and then the shark mech said, “Never did I tell anyone about my desire for a sparkling, other than you. Consider us even.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire stared at the other mech, and then gave him a fleeting half-grin and nodded. For now, there was an understanding, Jetfire thought to himself as he saw Sky-Byte walk to the cave entrance and peer outside. He stayed where he was, watching the shark mech shift his faceplates in irritation as it was evident that the flood of meteoroids had yet to pass by. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He would let Sky-Byte sneak out and get ahead of him for a bit. Eventually, though, Jetfire told himself that he would bring Sky-Byte to justice. He had to. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he did one thing right in his life cycle, it would have to be this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most Autobots had come to Maccadam’s enough times that Perceptor immediately knew who was heading for him, and could begin preparing their usual. Some mechs stepped heavier than others, some took tinier pauses between their footfalls, and if one listened, the older mechs such as Kup and Ratchet had a slight creak to their ankle and knee joints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last time Kup had been in the bar, Perceptor had mentioned it to him, brushing aside the grumbling from the other mech about his impertinence as he slid a container of joint grease towards the mech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, however, it took him a few more nanokliks than normal to realize who was heading his way about a cycle after the bar opened up. He rifled through his processor to try and match this series of steps to someone, and a result popped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor turned around, a cube of standard high grade in his servo, and he raised his helm, focusing his audio receptors on the mech approaching. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve heard you coming around, Dead End.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Dead End’s vents stall, and then relax as he said, “Y’know, it’s really unnerving how you can tell who’s who.” Then he paused, and there was the sound of Dead End taking a seat, and Perceptor could hear the mech place his arms on the bartop. “Also, couldn’t exactly come over here with that wall up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am aware.” Perceptor placed the high grade on the bartop in front of Dead End. “I have tried my servo at being humorous, but my attempts have been falling flat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep working at it and see where you get,” Dead End said dryly as he took the offered high grade and downed it. “So, take it you’ve heard the news?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About Megatron and Optimus Prime procreating?” Perceptor replied. “Yes, I am aware of that as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End made a noise of disgust. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call it that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve heard the news of Optimus carrying. He told us all. Did Megatron reveal the news to you and the rest of his Decepticons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He did. I let him have it,” Dead End pushed the now-empty cube towards Perceptor, “and he decked me in the faceplate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor wondered what it was that had sent Megatron over the edge, and if Dead End had possibly deserved it. Before he could ask, however, the other mech followed his statement up with, “I’m pretty sure I deserved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. What was it that you said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made some pretty crude comments about your Prime and… yeah I won’t say more. Can I have another one of these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor didn’t move, only craned his helm slightly to the side as if in inquiry. He held onto the empty energon cube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I have another one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say about Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, come on-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me repeat myself. What did you say about Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told Megatron that I hoped that sticking it in Prime valve was worth it, there, I said it. Can I have another one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor smiled and then got to work fixing up another cube of energon for his patron. He passed it over to Dead End and then placed his servos on the bartop. “Megatron reacting in such a manner is a clear indicator that his sire coding is active. He is incredibly protective of not just his sparkling, but the bot carrying said sparkling. Frankly, you did deserve what he gave you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End snorted into his drink. “Well, I won’t really argue that. Megatron really pissed us all off though, so not like he didn’t deserve all the slag we threw at him. Holding himself to a different standard, and all, sneaking around and knocking up Primus’s herald, acolyte, whatever. Couple of bots have wandered off into Cybertron’s wilderness, taking their chances out there instead of with Megatron again.” There was a pause, and Perceptor felt like he knew where the conversation was going to head. “How did you react when Prime told you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking back to his initial reaction in that crowd, Perceptor tapped his digits on the bartop. “I was upset, as it seems most of us were. As you said, he and Megatron were holding themselves to different standards, and of course who can forget how adamant Megatron was when he insisted on drawing the line, splitting the planet in half?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. And his bullslag about any bot caught crossing over would get punished. Hmph. Did he ever think about that when he was meeting up with your Prime?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor shrugged. “Well, I am not him and I wouldn’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was rhetorical.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thunk</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the bartop, and Perceptor took the emptied cube. “As us Autobots have been given a few solar cycles since the announcement, I feel that most of us are now mostly disappointed in Optimus. However, that won’t stop us from being in full support of him. He’s always supported us, and it is time for us to support him as he takes on this new role of being a creator.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel Dead End’s gaze on him as he turned around to clean and sanitize the two cubes. It went on for a few kliks, and Perceptor wanted to ask what was on Dead End’s processor and why he was staring, until Dead End made a noise indicating he was resetting his vocalizer. “So, him betraying all of you… you can really just let it go like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor turned around after he stored the two empty cubes, taking a moment to listen to the noise around them. It was just him, Dead End, and two other Autobots in a booth in a corner by where the old music box used to be. He turned his helm slightly to the side, as if meeting Dead End’s gaze, and replied. “If the reactions of everyone that was around me are to go off of, no, we didn’t quite let it go “like that”.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not mad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we are talking about the present time, no, I am not mad. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> upset, as I said, when Optimus gave the announcement. However, it is now a done deal. He is carrying, he will become a creator not just in spirit but in actuality, and the other creator happens to be Megatron.” Perceptor took the few steps over to the bartop and leaned on it. “Optimus lost the trust of those around him, so no, we didn’t quite let it go as quickly. He may try to get it back over time, and we may grant him our trust again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.” Dead End shifted in his seat. “Doesn’t quite work like that with Decepticons. We rose from the mines and the pits together. Once someone breaks trust, it’s pretty hard to get trust back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I’m correct, Starscream tried offlining Megatron multiple times and yet Megatron continued to keep him around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s different. That’s using a mech until he’s no longer of use to you, not trust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor hummed. “Fair enough. I am, after all, used to a certain leadership style and rapport, just as you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, quite different worlds we all lived in. You, scientist, Iacon, Autobot. Me, mines, Kaon, Decepticon. Didn’t see the sun for the first part of my life cycle, stuck in the mines all the time.” That seemed to remind the mech of something, as Perceptor heard Dead End make a noise of prevarication before he said, “Uh, that reminds me, you ever gonna get your optics fixed? Pretty sure your medic could fix them up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor put a servo to his hip and thought for a moment, then shook his helm. “I’m quite used to having no sight now. Additionally, I enjoy being able to unnerve bots such as yourself when I can tell who they are by sound alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End’s systems whirred a little bit and Perceptor could just imagine the mech shrinking into himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’ve got enough of the core left that you can propagate them!” Wheeljack proclaimed excitedly, holding the shards up to the light. “All they’ll need now is some time, so make sure they get put back quickly.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked at the pink shard in his servo and closed his digits around it, smiling. “How fast can they grow?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The more light that’s directly focused on them, the faster they can grow. Figure maybe about as tall as you within the stellar cycle.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That posed a question. Optimus drew a curious expression on his face and looked up at the other mech. “These shards have been around since the fall of Iacon.” He relaxed his digits and looked at the pink crystal again, gauging just how small it really was. “How did they fail to grow any significant amount in the millions of stellar cycles we were gone?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmm,” Wheeljack said, taking a cube of energon from the little drone that zoomed by with one and sending the other cube it was offering towards Optimus. “Theory is that these crystals and their glow are powered by our Core. With the AllSpark having been gone until recently, they probably didn’t get what they needed to keep growing. Also, light. Planet was pretty dark after all.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked down at the crystal shards he held in one of his servos, smiling at them and the promises they held. They seemed to glow with anticipation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Are you leaving again? It would be better if you stayed to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus turned to face Megatron, holding the little pink shard out. “These need to be planted soon,” he said. “The weather is quite nice today, so I’ve decided to go plant them now. It’s better to do so now, that I am still able to move around. One solar cycle I won’t be able to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then you’ll be needing my help with everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime resisted the urge to roll his optics at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>delighted tone in the other mech’s voice. “Yes. I’ll be so heavy that I’ll require your assistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron smirked and then wrapped his arms around him, planting a tender kiss on his lipplates that Optimus returned in kind. The Prime wasn’t sure if the incredible levels of affection were due to the other mech’s sire coding or if Megatron had really been repressing how loving and tender he could be during all this time, but he wasn’t about to complain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Megatron’s servos wander downward, from the middle of his back to his lower back, and then towards the front, planting firmly on his sides just a bit above his hips. The Decepticon purred softly, the vibrations shooting right up Optimus’s spinal strut and directly down to his interface panel. A query popped up, asking if his panel locks should be disengaged, but Optimus dismissed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, how he wanted this. Optimus deepened their kiss, and then pulled back, dimming his optics and smiling at his mate. “Tonight,” he said softly. He had some ideas of his own, with regard to a particular little piece of lingerie that he’d not worn in many eons. Megatron had seemed to enjoy it, once upon a time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron pouted, but Optimus gently patted the side of his helm with one of his servos and released himself from the other mech’s arms. “To think, one solar cycle we will be able to return to the Garden and wander among the crystals again, with our little one in tow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He saw a smile cross Megatron’s faceplates. “We must not forget to record her reaction when it happens. I cannot wait to see her bathed in multiple colors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s going to have the same expression on her faceplate that you did when you saw them for the first time, I’m certain,” Optimus said as he made certain that he had the other crystal shards that were approved for growing. “You’re going to be at the construction site for the colleges of Croaton City and Iacon, am I correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tragically yes, and also dealing with our off-world suppliers.” The grey mech looked quite put upon. “Trying for my patience, but also necessary.” Megatron took him into his arms again. One of his servos stroked over the curve of his middle, which had become quite obvious in the few decacycles that had passed since they’d broken the news. “Primus, I can’t wait to have you tonight,” he rumbled, voice low and optics dim.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gently slapped his servos on Megatron’s chassis, but gave him a kiss as he departed for Iacon’s central district.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus knelt to the ground, going slowly as he did so and making sure his knee joints were not protesting before he began replanting the crystal shards he’d picked up and taken to Wheeljack over the past decacycle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling fluttered, sending a little pulse of curiosity his way. Optimus smiled to himself. “I’m here, little one,” he said softly as he gently patted down the soil around the crystals, making sure they still peeked out and got enough sunlight to help them grow. “I’m here, simply helping make our planet a little brighter again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She calmed her movements, but she let loose a train of thought through their creator-creation bond. It amazed him still that he was carrying a new life, someone who would be unknown to everyone including himself and Megatron, the first sparkling born in millenia. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he worked at the Hall of Records and had those cycles he had to assist someone one-on-one on finding the information they sought, he enjoyed the little sparkle in their optics as they found what they were looking for. Even when he wasn’t required to help someone directly, he enjoyed those moments of his rounds about the study tables, watching patrons finally comprehend what was puzzling them, be it a question for their studies or just a general inquiry of the universe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would get to watch his little one learn about the universe. He could think of nothing more rewarding at the moment. She would have so much to discover, and he and Megatron would get to discover everything with her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do wonder what you’re thinking in there, and what you get up to,” Optimus said as he got to work planting the next crystal shards, shades of blue and a deep violet that were quite beautiful. He planted them close together. “Ratchet tells me that you’re going to be quite a heavy little femme, a flight frame. That’s a little bit of a surprise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling moved, and she sent another curious pulse his way, almost as if to ask why. He replied, as he moved onto the next shards, one semi-clear and the other green, “Your sire and I are grounders. Only when in a shuttle or a spacecraft have we been able to take to the skies, but you will be able to do so on your own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His frame was now starting to protest the activity, so he decided to take a break, sitting back and looking up at the bright sky. Idle cybersparrows flew above, dancing around and flitting back and forth, chirping their song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope we will be able to give you everything you need, little one,” he said softly. “Having a sparkling in the middle of reconstruction of our world was never an ideal situation, but we will deal with it as best as we can.” He then smiled and thought of the one day that he and Megatron would finally see her taking to the skies, dancing along with those little sparrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime held himself better this time, recognizing the voice. He winced, and turned his frame as much as he could to look at Jetfire, smiling. “Hello, Jetfire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech blinked at him, and began walking over. “Optimus, shouldn’t you be at your home and… I don’t know, resting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime’s smile left his faceplates and he couldn’t keep the tone of exasperation out of his voice as he responded, “Jetfire, I’m fine. This is not a labor intensive process.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech made a flustered noise and was then at Optimus’s side, kneeling next to him and gently swatting his servos out of the way. “Here, let me do it, you shouldn’t be outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared at his amica, blinked, and then managed to find his vocalizer. “I’m still cleared for light physical activity until I get closer to emergence, Jetfire. I can handle this.” To emphasize his point, Optimus held the crystals and small digging tools to his other side, furthest away from the shuttle mech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was slightly cute, yet pathetic, at how Jetfire tried to reach for said crystals and tools until he lost his balance and fell flat on his front. Optimus blinked down at the splayed-out mech, and sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While I am happy to be on speaking terms with you again,” he said gently as he laid the crystals and digging tools down, and then helped Jetfire get up even though it was a bit of a struggle for himself, “I’m wondering why you’ve pivoted to this particular state of mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What state of mind?” Jetfire asked. Optimus didn’t miss the defensive tone of voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking down between their frames at the ground, and the tools and crystals laid down, it occurred to Optimus what this might be about. He placed a servo on his middle, and then looked back at his friend, parsing his words carefully. “You’ve been… overprotective, the past few solar cycles that I have come out. You didn’t want me to overexert myself sorting datapads, and I acquiesced because the containers are getting quite heavy. Painting the walls with Hot Rod and Bumblebee would overexert my arms and the tools for such a task could be heavy. Now this.” He placed a servo on Jetfire’s arm, gently tapping a digit on the other mech’s armor. “What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire went quiet, and a faraway look came over his optics, before he shook it off. He looked at the servo that Optimus placed on his lower arm, and lifted his other servo to cover it, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Your sparkling may not be mine, but I have a duty to make sure she does not meet the same fate that mine did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime felt his spark sink. He slowly opened his mouth, parsing his words in his processor, before saying, “I appreciate the concern, Jetfire. I truly do. However, I will be fine. I am not doing more than is allowed, and I am making sure to check in with Ratchet on schedule.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech looked at him, and then sighed and moved back a step, letting Optimus’s servo drop. “I still worry. Your sparkling is fragile, you are as well while you’re going through this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jetfire, you suffered severe trauma in battle and you didn’t know that you were sparked. Had you known and told anyone else, you would have been removed from any combat immediately. The circumstances-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My processor does not want to understand the difference</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Optimus,” Jetfire interrupted harshly, his vents flaring. “I know. I know that the circumstances are different. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. It doesn’t stop me from flying into a panic when I see you, getting heavier and heavier with sparkling, performing physical labor when the safest thing you can do is to do less and less. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like I will be the one to blame if something happens to you or your little one, or the both of you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It became quiet, and both mechs stared at each other. Optimus waited for Jetfire’s inhalation rate to decrease before he said, “I’m sorry, Jetfire. I didn’t realize that it was quite anxiety-inducing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech sighed and looked away. “This one isn’t your fault, Optimus. It’s on me to know better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is, but after how you were left alone to grieve and try to handle your own emotions…” Optimus trailed off and glanced at the tools he left on the ground, then looked back up to his amica. “Would it alleviate your anxieties if I were to let you take over planting these crystals? I was intending on continuing my break for some time.” He purposefully left out the pain in his back strut - Jetfire didn’t need to know that part.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire’s mood changed a little, and he smiled and grabbed the planting tools before Optimus could change his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus lowered himself back to the ground and watched the other mech plant for a few kliks, before he couldn’t hold his question back much longer. “Jetfire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech smoothed the soil around the yellow crystal he’d just planted, and looked up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please be honest. Had Grimlock and I asked about your emotions and let you speak in the aftermath of… of losing your little one, would you have been less upset regarding my carriage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just about saw the mechanisms in Jetfire’s processor stall, as he’d clearly not expected this type of question. Optimus waited, knowing that the both of them had had different angles of this particular conversation in talking as they rebuilt some semblance of their friendship again. He looked up at the sky again for a moment, and was saddened to see no sparrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure, Optimus,” Jetfire answered after a brief pause. “It’s in the past, and it is also something I’ll never answer in complete honesty.” Jetfire gave him a wan smile. “I may not have set off after Sky-Byte, that much is certain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus remembered feeling uneasy that solar cycle that he approved Jetfire’s request to go after the shark mech, and feeling worse when he saw his amica fly off into the sky to not be seen by fellow Autobots for a million more stellar cycles. If only he’d asked. If only he’d let him talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Jetfire continued, drawing Optimus out of his own thoughts. “For snapping at you. I know you are doing what you need to do to keep yourself and your sparkling safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime smiled. “There is no harm done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment he felt something in his lower middle. Almost like a jolt. He stopped and looked down at the curve of his middle, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus? Are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I just… hold on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both mechs waited a klik, and just as Optimus thought it was something in passing that he would have to see Ratchet about, it came back. It wasn’t a jolt. It was a hefty kick, one that the little one was clearly putting all her small might into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled and put his servo where the sparkling had kicked, gasping.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Jetfire, it’s fine.” He looked up at the shuttle mech and couldn’t help the wide grin that crossed his faceplates. “She’s kicking. For the first time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire dropped the digging tool he held and made his way over, smiling broadly. “May I?” he asked, holding one of his servos out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus nodded and grasped Jetfire’s servo in his, pressing his palm against his middle where the sparkling had kicked. A few little flutters later, there came another hefty kick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Primus,” Jetfire said. His optics were wide, his expression so happy. “Primus, she’s got quite the kick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime laughed. “She kicks just like her sire. My internals are going to be quite damaged when this is over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if in agreement, the little one kicked at Jetfire’s servo again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. In Conflict</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It took some time for Optimus to find that long-forgotten fabric, but when he did, he felt a bit of excitement bubble up in his spark as he found that the bottom piece had enough give to accommodate his changing frame. It was snug around his middle, but not so much that it would tear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That excitement was quickly dashed when the top part couldn’t fit over the gentle swell of his middle. He sighed and looked at his reflection, putting a servo on his abdominal plating and feeling the sparkling stir. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose this won’t be the last time you might get in the way of your sire and I trying to be intimate,” he said with some amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In response, the sparkling kicked at the same moment that Optimus’s audio receptors picked up the sound of the front door opening. He looked up and realized that the door to the berthroom was open. In a momentary state of panic, he slipped off the bottom piece of fabric and tossed it somewhere behind him as he peered out of the door, and met a crimson optic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s my beautiful mech,” Megatron purred. He began to walk over, but then Optimus shook his helm and made a noise that made the other mech stop in his tracks. “What? What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a surprise for you,” Optimus said in as steady a voice he could muster, giving Megatron a small smile. “Please stay out here for a few kliks, and close your optic when I ask you to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron gave him a curious look, but stayed put.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperate times like this called for desperate measures. Optimus strained as he picked up the discarded bottom half from the floor, and looked at the top that was on the berth. He closed his optics, turned his servo into his axe, and then reopened his optics as he used his other servo and one knee to steady the bit of fabric before using the sharp edge of the axe to split the flared part on the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning the axe back into his servo, he lifted the piece of fabric up and then tried to fix it to his frame. The split part of the fabric now made it easier to fit it over his torso, and it showed off a sliver of his midsection. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, and felt heat rush to his faceplates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ridiculous. He looked ridiculous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought back to the few times he’d worn it, before the war, and even back then he remembered feeling trepidation course through his neural net. It was only the ravenous, extremely turned-on gaze of his gladiator that made him realize that what he felt wasn’t what Megatron saw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus hesitantly stepped toward the door and looked out into the common room, seeing that Megatron was still where he’d been, standing a few steps from the berthroom with his optic shut tight. The other mech was clearly growing impatient, as Optimus could see that his right pede was twitching and making small movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime leaned up against the doorway, pressing his left side to the frame, adjusting himself and feeling quite embarrassed about it all the while. He put his right servo on his right hip, and then reset his vocalizer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Optimus said, trying to keep his voice steady. “You may look now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s optic came online, and his systems seemed to freeze in place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Optimus thought this was a mistake, and he straightened up and put his servos to the fabric hanging around his torso. “I’m sorry, I’ll remove-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence, however, as Megatron was instantly in front of him and immediately hoisted Optimus into his arms, swiftly yet gently. Optimus was startled by the quick motion and then found himself being laid tenderly on the berth, Megatron slowly climbing on and hovering over him with a look of ferocity in his optics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s unfair what you do to me,” he murmured as he leaned down and kissed him, and Optimus moaned into his mate’s mouth. “Absolutely unfair the effect you have on me, you with your intelligence and your beauty that surpasses even the brightest star.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt heat rush to his faceplates and he pulled away from Megatron, mouth hanging open slightly as he gazed up at his mate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I felt ridiculous putting this on,” he said. “I’m glad to see it hasn’t affected your opinion of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Megatron’s digits gently caressed the side of his face, and the other mech gave him a genuine smile. “Not war, not millions of stellar cycles apart, could make me change my opinion of you.” He leaned down and kissed him. “My beloved archivist.” He began trailing his way down, kissing over Optimus’s chassis, making him moan. “My Prime.” Megatron kissed a line down the center of his gently swollen middle and then pressed his forehelm against the curvature for a moment, before trailing back down. “My equal in everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt Megatron’s digits move the fabric covering his panel aside, and he immediately opened for his mate. Normally, he would have preferred to have Megatron work for access, but the fire in his neural net was intense, and he wanted nothing more than for his beloved’s spike to fill him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of spike, however, he felt the blunt tips of Megatron’s digits poke at his wet valve folds. Optimus made a quiet noise and angled his hips up into Megatron’s touch, urging him to continue in. Then, Megatron moved his digits away and just as Optimus was about to protest the absence, he felt his mate’s digits circling around his anterior node, the brushing contact eliciting tremors that traveled up his spinal strut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus was not proud of how desperate he sounded when he made a noise between a growl and a groan and begged, “Please, in me. I need you in me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron, thankfully, was a considerate mate. There was that now-familiar sound of panel locks disengaging, and then Megatron took his spike in his servo, sliding in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That slide was always divine, the thick length filling him so completely and perfectly that Optimus closed his optics and arched his neck, gasping. Primus had made them for one another, perfect equals in everything, as Megatron had said. He tightened his legs around Megatron’s waist, gasping with each rock of the other mech’s hips into his frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t last long, Optimus,” Megatron said, venting heavily as his thrusts became more and more erratic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime reopened his optics and looked up in the incredibly desperate optic of his mate, and nodded. “Neither will I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few hard thrusts later and Optimus felt his overload crest, and he lost himself to it. A few moments afterwards, Megatron went still and gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With whatever bits of processing power he had left after that overload, Optimus grabbed onto his mate and gently pushed him to the side so Megatron wouldn’t have the chance to lose his balance and possibly fall on him. Megatron hit the berth on his left side, sighing and burying his face in Optimus’s neck cables, his systems purring in contentment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked down at his frame, and gave a small chuckle at the sight of the new tears and stains that would be hard to get out. “This outfit is now completely ruined.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron laughed against his neck, sending pleasant little tingles through the Prime’s frame. “I can always get you a replacement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus settled a servo on his beloved’s helm, stroking his digits up and down. “I would much appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a few more kliks of quiet that passed between them, the only sound in the space being their systems working to cool their frames. Optimus then moved, jostling Megatron slightly so he moved away from his frame. “How was it at today’s site?” the Prime asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron was silent, and then a low rumble emanated from deep in his chassis.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re incredibly frustrating, Optimus. Not just your Autobots, but my Decepticons,” Megatron growled, stroking Optimus’s faceplates. “Bickering, always, and I have to be there to tell them to cease or leave whatever society we are trying to rebuild. You and I put our differences aside and in the process, made a sparkling. Why do they refuse to work together for ten kliks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gazed up at the ceiling of the room, intakes drawing in air and then ex-venting it. “You and I had a history prior to the war,” he answered. “Many of these former Autobots and Decepticons do not. The most history they may have is on the battlefield. Therein lies the difference.” He turned his helm to look at Megatron, and then took one of Megatron’s servosd into his. “Be patient with them. They may learn to set aside their differences again, and some may not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron went quiet again and ceased stroking Optimus’s faceplates for a moment, and then resumed, giving him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, Optimus felt that his smile eclipsed the beauty of the stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More and more Decepticons had come around often enough that Perceptor now considered them to be regular patrons. They would have had no other choice if they wanted high grade - he was still the only oil house on this slowly-recovering Cybertron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He maintained the same rules that his predecessor had. No fighting was allowed on the premises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, Maccadam had always been able to cow even the most combative bots into submission with his fierce alternate mode and his booming voice. Perceptor had none of the above to get others to obey. Where Maccadam had been able to engage others in conversation with ease, Perceptor felt only comfortable holding conversation with select bots. Mostly Ratchet, and at times Wheeljack when he came in for Polyhexian high grade and to show off an invention that he’d forgotten Perceptor wouldn’t be able to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End had now been added to that small roster. The Decepticon was there, a silent guardian of the bar from open until close and almost always hovering nearby. If Perceptor listened closely, he could tell from the whirring of joints and other mechanisms that Dead End watched each bot that walked into the bar with rapt optics, following them as they entered and walked up to the bartop to order, only relaxing once they walked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor was quite flattered. He could also tell that the pulsing of Dead End’s spark increased when they were near each other, no matter if another bot was present.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d pinged Ratchet about it, thinking it was a medical anomaly that Dead End might need to see the medic about.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you really that blind? Rhetorical question, before you answer. No, he’s not sick. He’s feeling something for you, is what.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ratchet, are you certain that’s what it is? He-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hangs around the bar all the time, glowers at every bot that walks in and watches like a cyberhawk to make sure they don’t do anything stupid, spark rate goes up whenever he’s around you even if you aren’t at risk of having your aft handed to you. You didn’t ask him to be a guard, did you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, not quite.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well there ya have it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite this, he didn’t want to assume. It really could be something else, after all. It didn’t stop him from being flattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he could exactly show it, however. He did have a reputation to uphold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I have to watch this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?” Perceptor inquired as he turned around, cleaning out an empty cube, and then he heard it. Unfamiliar footfalls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End took the convo to a private communication link, and Perceptor could hear the edge in his voice. ::This one used to start fights outside Maccadam’s way back when::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor would have been lying if he didn’t admit that he was slightly nervous to have a bot with that reputation in the bar, but he simply nodded. He lifted his helm and when he heard the new bot’s footfalls cease at a point right in front of the bartop, he asked, “What will your order be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low voice responded. “Your highest grade, your biggest size.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::He could say ‘please’::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor smiled to himself as he turned around and found the biggest size of cube available, pouring the requested drink. ::You didn’t do so when you first came around::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no response, but he heard Dead End’s systems whirr a bit and he could tell that the mech had flinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Facing the mech, Perceptor placed the cube down. “As requested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few moments passed where the strange mech picked up the cube, before he quickly slammed it down and growled. “I said your </span>
  <em>
    <span>highest</span>
  </em>
  <span> grade.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since opening the establishment, Perceptor actually felt slightly afraid. Before he could say or do anything, however, Dead End had put himself between the both of them. He could sense how rapidly his self-appointed guardian’s spark was pulsing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s not high enough for you, tough luck,” Dead End said between grit dentae. “Don’t like it, leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor heard the sound of the new mech’s frame straightening up, and he worried that there would be a fight. However, by the luck of Primus, he heard the mech grumble, pick his cube back up, and retreat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the mech had retreated enough distance for Perceptor to feel safe, he reset his vocalizer. “Thank you for intervening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End made a noise, and then Perceptor heard his spark rate lessen, then a moment later he felt the other mech’s electromagnetic field relax. “Don’t mention it. Would hate to not have you here to listen to me grumble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor hummed in thought. “Is that all I am to you? Someone to listen to you grumble, as you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lived for those moments when he could make the Decepticon backtrack. He heard Dead End’s intakes hitch as he understood the implication of what he’d said. “No, not, you’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, I just really like-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am jesting with you,” Perceptor said, sliding a new cube of mid-grade towards the other mech. “Really, I am quite flattered that you seem to enjoy my company this much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End seemed to relax. “Well y’know, went through what we went through together. I also feel a little protective of you, given you can’t quite see anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m functional, whether or not I have sight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other bot gave a sigh. “Never said you weren’t functional. But, you do need a bit of protection in case you can’t tell someone’s about to get rough with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor smirked. “I’m sure if you spoke with Chromia, she’d happily tell you about the time I was newly sightless and took down multiple Decepticons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you get captured again afterwards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Perceptor was the one flustered. He reset his vocalizer. “I was hoping she would not have included that detail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing he saw when he woke from slumber was a small creature peering down at him. It had a pointed set of audio receptors, a long and pointed nose, and what he could see of the tail flicked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His optics came into full focus, and something in his visual field came up with results of a scan of this creature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turbofox. An adolescent turbofox, quite young, between a kit and full maturity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up, and the turbofox backed up, putting more distance between them. The little creature sat on its hind legs, tail flicking back and forth. The pointed audio receptors twithed, and the yellow optics blinked. He could hear the whirring of the internal components as the creature blinked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mech looked around, taking in the environment he was in. A bright light shone over the horizon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, slowly things came to him. Cybertron. This was his home. The sun was bright. It was daytime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to him that he was not supposed to be in this particular place. The last thing he remembered was the night, and flashing lights of different colors as his processor shut down. He knew this was not the same place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> he, though?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The turbofox made a sudden high-pitched noise, whining. It got up from its seated position and darted away, disappearing into a grove of trees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something prompted him to follow. So, he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun was still bright as he made his way out of the clinic, leaving yet another of the increasing-in-frequency checkups, and walked to the Hall of Records, raising his helm and gaze to the sky and smiling at all the cybersparrows flying. There seemed to be more and more lately, a result of reviving the planet and their high rate of reproduction combined with their quick maturation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron had rarely heard them in the mines and the pits, but now that he was continually exposed to them, he seemed to have gained an appreciation for their song. Many times, Optimus would look out the window of their little home and smile as he saw Megatron leaning against a railing and looking at a group of sparrows as they seemed to serenade him. Optimus never missed the way that Megatron tried to stop himself from grinning at the little cyber birds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d heard that there were more and more sparrows, and more variety, the further out from Iacon you got. He thought of that home that he and Megatron had wanted to build out in the mountains, not too far from Iacon but enough to put some distance and allow their sparkling a calmer upbringing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was half-built by now, and he expected that construction would be completed and he and Megatron moved in by the time the bitlet arrived. He looked forward to setting up her little berth by their own berth, and taking his time in setting up and decorating the berthroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were many options that sprung to his processor when it came to how to decorate her berthroom, and the most popular decision between him and Megatron seemed to be using a stars and galaxies theme. He thought about painting constellations on the walls, and a large galaxy on the ceiling, though the thought of all that made him feel incredibly exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his sparkling, though? Anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He passed by the Crystal Gardens on the way to the Hall and took a look at what he and Jetfire had planted. His spark soared at the sight of the glowing gems starting to propagate and show themselves above the soil. Both he and Megatron looked forward to showing their little one the crystals when she was older.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hall of Records had the majority of the frame rebuilt. It lacked finishing touches, but if a storm occurred, the contents and any occupants that were inside would be safe from the elements. That gave Optimus some comfort as he returned to his duties at his restored workstation, cataloging the thousands of datapads that still had yet to be sorted onto the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at times a lonely experience, being the only survivor of those that used to work in the Hall of Records, but he was grateful for the opportunity to have some solitude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moreover, he was happy to talk to the bitlet with no one around to give him strange looks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if sensing his thoughts, the bitlet stirred and moved, the thumps doing a pattern of sorts across his middle. Optimus smiled. “Hello, little one. I am glad to see you’re awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling paused, and then she gave a hefty kick. It seemed to be her preferred greeting at this point, and he missed her light flutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve told your sire that you kick just like him, and he is quite proud of you. He likes to say that you will be the most terrifying warrior that the universe has ever known. What do you say to that, sparklet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kicked again, and Optimus liked the idea that she was as opposed to the notion as he was. He chuckled as he kept working. After painstaking review, he’d taken down the names of each datapad and sorted them onto a spreadsheet with the subject matter, and then the title in alphabetical order. On another screen was a visual layout of the Hall of Records, and a third screen had a salvaged map of what the layout had been prior to the war destroying everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was busy sorting each datapad, according to subject matter, into the row of shelves it should be in, and ordering them alphabetically. Most of the reshelving he could do himself, but he had already tasked Bumblebee and Arcee to come once a decacycle to help him with the very bottom shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bitlet seemed restless, and she pulsed her emotions right at him, her processor’s hazy and entirely wordless train of thought mingling briefly with his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry you’re so impatient, little one,” Optimus said as he picked up two datapads. “I’m quite impatient to meet you as well. However, as Ratchet said in our appointment earlier, we are much closer to the end.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought made him pause briefly, as he looked at the data on the screens but did not actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, all he could think about in that moment was how painful the emergence cycle would be. His spark became quite nervous, and it seemed the bitlet picked up on his anxiety, as she began to mirror it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus snapped back to reality and tried to quiet her fears. “I’m sorry to have made you worry,” he said gently as he resumed his work. “It’s nothing to worry about for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He then turned his attention to a stack of restored datapads nearby. After checking to make sure they were all the same subject and would be put on a shelf that was more accessible to him in his altered state, he got out from behind the workstation and wandered across the room to the shelves, humming to himself as he placed the datapads in their rightful places.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, there came a noise that he was all-too-familiar with: a sporty racer vehicle, the tires squealing and getting louder and louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus paused, halfway through putting a datapad on the shelf, and listened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tire squeals ceased at the entrance to the room, and then he heard the sound of a bot taking on their bipedal mode, followed by thundering footfalls. At the entrance to the aisle appeared Hot Rod, looking incredibly frantic as he made gestures with his servos, making noises that seemed like he was trying to talk but kept tripping over his own words. “Optimus, we need - he - he’s-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus placed a servo on the young mech’s shoulder strut and sternly looked in his faceplate, making Hot Rod cease speaking. “Hot Rod, what do you need me to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just come with me, Megatron’s yelling and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger mech didn’t need to continue, as the mere mention of his beloved’s name got him going. Optimus raced in the direction that Hot Rod had come from. He remembered Megatron was at the construction site for the primary lecture hall for Iacon’s university.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he drew closer, Hot Rod racing to catch up to him, Optimus could see that there was a crowd, gathered in a circle around who he assumed was his mate. As Optimus got closer and closer, he found that his fears were confirmed, as that unmistakable voice thundered, “Listen to me - I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>CARE</span>
  </em>
  <span> about your past history and grievances you have with this mech! You do as I say, or you can take the route your own brother did and leave to the wilderness!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus managed to find a thinner part of the crowd and could see Megatron shouting down two mechs, one clearly an Autobot and the other an obvious Decepticon. They still had their insignias affixed, though it was no longer necessary or recommended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How dare you make me set aside my grievance with her?” the Decepticon yelled. “She tried to take my helm off on the moon battle!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You deserved it, you were trying to yank my arms from their sockets!” the Autobot answered, lunging for him before someone darted from the crowd and managed to hold her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t say it again,” Megatron growled. “You two are to carry those containers to the third level to Soundwave, and be </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because you could bed a Prime doesn’t mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud noise and then a threatening hum. It was only when Megatron rapidly lifted his arm, and he saw the two bots take a hurried step back, that Optimus remembered what the noise was and why it was familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>MEGATRON!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus’s voice was louder than he’d meant it to be, but it was for the best. Everyone on the construction site realized he was there, and all optics turned to him. Megatron seemed surprised to see him there, and then realized exactly what was going on. He lowered his arm, and the humming of his cannon faded into stone-cold silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>frag </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Optimus hissed between grit dentae, his voice echoing in the silence that had fallen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew Megatron well enough to tell that the other mech knew he’d been had. The mech made a noise as if he were trying to give a response, but he could see in Megatron’s optic that he realized there was no excuse, and he went quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus held Megatron’s gaze for a few tense moments that felt like kliks, and then he looked at the two cowering mechs that had been threatened by his sparkmate. He nodded at them. “You both may take leave for the solar cycle. We will be talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the crowd dispersed, and the bots that had only moments before had a cannon aimed at their faceplates scurried off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thick tension in the air dissipated only slightly, and Optimus grabbed his beloved’s arm and pulled him closer. He glared harshly at the other mech, and after calming the many, many angry thoughts in his processor, he managed to get one out. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> how you treated your subordinates when we were in conflict?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s posture changed and he clearly became defensive. “It was the only way that they would listen!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus let Megatron’s arm go and took a step back to put some space between them. He composed himself and replied, “There is no need to use force with your subordinates, Megatron. Especially not now, not when we are trying to have peace. Continuing to try to use force, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>aiming your weapons at them</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he said, placing emphasis on Megatron’s actions in those five words, “does nothing to try and resolve the situation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you suppose I do, Optimus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger coursed through his neural net, and Optimus pinched the bridge of his nasal plating, sighing heavily. He tapped his right pede once, twice, before moving his servo away and looking at the other mech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could respond with a solution, however, Megatron interrupted his train of thought by resetting his vocalizer. “What do you suppose I do with my Decepticons, who learned the same language that I did in the mines with the heat of fire and the bite of a lash? We know one type of leadership, and that is a leadership of brute force.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence before Optimus asked in a resigned manner, “I suppose not even talking to them would work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron barked a laugh that startled Optimus, but he kept his composure. “They are not Autobots. Words don’t work, no matter how much you may want them to. All that gets them moving is this,” Megatron said, moving the arm that his cannon was attached to. “I wasn’t going to fire it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if you weren’t going to fire your cannon!” Optimus said, frame trembling, spark pulsing hard in its casing. “There was no need for action befitting war when all this was was an argument that could have been rectified in other manners.” He put a fist to his optics and made a noise, deep in his chassis, and then pulled it away. “Do you know what I thought when you fired up your cannon?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron didn’t answer, but only looked at him with his optic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus shook his helm and closed his optics. “I wondered what I had gotten myself into. What I had gotten my Autobots into, when we decided to proceed with this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you regret being with me and carrying our little one already?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime didn’t think he could get angrier, but the question made him so furious that the edges of his vision went red, and he was grateful that he wasn’t looking at the other bots, and only at Megatron. He curled his digits into his palms and glared at the other mech. “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare </span>
  </em>
  <span>put words in my mouth. Not once did I say that I regretted you or our sparkling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s implied,” Megatron hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I implied nothing,” Optimus replied harshly. “The universe will end before I think about regretting you, or regretting our little one. All I thought about was how you and I, now, need to have a discussion about this.” Then he paused. “It is a discussion we should have had before today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nagging voice in the back of his processor asked him how he could have had the opportunity to bring this up, before this moment that he’d seen his beloved show his rage again. The same voice asked a question he would have to in turn ask Megatron. His spark hurt at the idea, but he looked at his beloved again. “I also wondered if you would respond to all matters of stress in this exact manner. That is to say, would you ever raise your cannon at myself, or far worse, our little one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought seemed to horrify Megatron, which was at the very least a very good sign that he found the idea reprehensible. “Optimus, how could you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your life was not in danger, and you still raised your cannon at two Cybertronians who posed no threat to you,” Optimus interrupted. “What else would I think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few moments, but what Optimus was implying this time seemed to sink into Megatron’s processor. The Decepticon leader made his way over to a pile of construction materials that had been stacked on each other, forming a seat, and sat on it. Optimus followed suit and sat next to his beloved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus,” Megatron said, voice raspy, “I would never hurt our little one, and now that you and I have settled our differences and are working to help rebuild Cybertron… never could I hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus waited a moment, and then replied in as even a voice he could muster, “Then you have to not just promise, but make an effort, that you will stop using violence to get your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you suppose I do with these bots,” Megatron asked, making a gesturing motion with his servo at the mixture of bots that were already a ways away from them both, wrapping up their duties, “when they refuse to work with one another and get this done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus thought of what he did, in the earlier days of the war when he struggled to get all of his Autobots to listen and fall in line. He also remembered what Hot Rod had told him he and Soundwave had done to get everyone on both sides to fight the Quintessons, and how proud he’d been that his example had been copied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When one of my Autobots would break ranks, in the early days of the war, I would send them to do something they made clear they had no interest in.” Optimus looked at the sun setting on the horizon, turning the sky a motley of colors. “Hot Rod disobeyed an order I gave him once, by running into a fight when I ordered everyone to retreat. He was sent on a reconnaissance mission with Wheeljack, and had to give me a report on their findings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron snorted. “Hot Rod, giving a report? I didn’t realize he had the ability to string more than three sentences together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not be fooled by his youth and impulsive nature,” Optimus chuckled, “as Hot Rod is far more intelligent than others give him credit for. However, he did hate writing the report the most, and once I emphasized that he would be required to write reports for any missions I made him go on as a punishment, he ceased being so impulsive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a quiet moment that passed between them as they watched the last of their mingled bots retreat, and soon enough it was just the two of them. The sparkling gave a kick at that moment, almost as if to remind Optimus that there were actually three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus realized that despite himself, he’d winced, as Megatron gave him a concerned glance. He placed a servo on his middle and looked at his mate, giving him a gentle smile. “I’m fine. She simply wants some attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s expression softened, and then he maneuvered himself so he was lying next to the Prime, and pressed the side of his helm against the gentle mound that held their sparkling. Optimus moved his servo and stroked Megatron’s helm as he looked up at the stars that were starting to emerge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he wanted was better. He wanted to do better, he wanted Megatron to do better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hoped to Primus that they would.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I didn't intend for the wait between chapters to be this long, but I've not been doing too great mentally. Just as I was getting the drive to write again, the Texas Snowpocalypse hit. I've thankfully escaped the worst of it, but it was a hard time for a while there. Hopefully the next update won't take as long, but as always, I make no promises.</p><p>Many thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Surprise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Where are you taking me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You shall see soon.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m already tired of this blindfold on my optics, Optimus. Tell me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Optimus smiled to himself as he led Megatron by the servo through the throngs of the crowd in the center of Iacon. In his peripheral vision he could see Bumblebee and Windblade exiting, walking in the opposite direction. Bumblebee saw him, and waved. Optimus waved back.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ahead of him, just off to the side, stood Jetfire, staring ahead and looking a little bit impatient. Optimus felt guilty that he’d taken a bit longer than anticipated.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jetfire!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The shuttle mech turned and looked, and gave a loud sigh that was followed by a relieved smile. “I thought you’d forgotten.” He reached into his subspace, and forked over two passes on small datapads. “I’ll invoice you for the amount I spent.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The archivist was grateful that his amica had been willing to let him use his credentials for the discount granted to those that worked in the sciences. “It’s much appreciated, Jetfire. I’ll return what I owe when you send me the amount.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jetfire looked at Megatron with his blindfold on, and sent Optimus a private communication message. ::Was that the reason for you being late?::</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>::Yes. I’m amazed he’s yet to rip the blindfold off by now::</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Optimus watched Jetfire walk away, and then turned to the young femme working the entrance booth to the attraction. He handed her the small datapads, which she took with an air of indifference, glanced at very briefly, and waved them through the rotating security bars after handing the passes back to Optimus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Optimus,” Megatron’s voice was low, growling. “Are we there yet?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Almost.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not patient enough for “almost,”” he replied. “I’ll be taking this off soon - I can’t believe you managed to convince me to put this disgusting thing on.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please, just a few nanokliks,” Optimus said with an air of mischief in his voice as he guided the both of them through the tunnel for those entering. They came out to the tunnel, and Optimus looked up and around at the glowing crystals, watching as their colorful hues reflected off of the armor of the other bots, and his own armor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Megatron, with his silver-grey, was now a motley of purple and red and green lights, reflecting the light from the large crystals before them. Optimus grabbed the back of the blindfold, and removed it swiftly. “There. Now you may look.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Megatron, who’d had his optics closed behind the blindfold, groaned and shook his helm as he opened his optics. Optimus watched intently, smiling as he saw the dawning comprehension on Megatron’s optics and faceplates. The Kaonian leaned his helm all the way back, and then had to back up a step.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You… you brought me here?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Optimus smiled at the sparkling-like delight in Megatron’s voice, and took one of his beloved’s servos into his, interlacing their digits. “I saved for stellar-cycle passes, for a stellar cycle. For the both of us.” He popped up on the tips of his pedes, though it was hardly necessary given their similar height, and kissed Megatron on his forehelm. “Happy anniversary, my love.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Megatron didn’t react immediately to the kiss, far too taken with the many colors of the many crystals. He looked to the side, left and right, seeing other bots milling about and having other colors cast on their armor - shades of blue and pink and yellow. Everyone looked as dazzled as he did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You brought me here,” he said, this time not as a question but as a declaration. He turned and looked at the archivist in his optics, and gave him a smile. “How much-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Jetfire helped procure a discount, so don’t worry about it, please. This is my gift to you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Even after these stellar cycles of courting, Optimus knew he would have to reassure Megatron that there was no need for repayment. Megatron was used to having the very few things he was given, taken away, or held over him. Only when he’d become a gladiator and began to fight in the arenas, drawing crowds, had he been able to establish some sort of independence where he depended on less and less people that could abuse him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was nice that he would pick up the tab at Maccadam’s whenever he and Optimus would stay long into the night, poring over his speeches and discussing political strategies. For once, however, Optimus wanted to be the one showing his appreciation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Megatron bumped his helm against Optimus’s, and gave a low rumble in his chassis, drawing Optimus out of his own processor. The archivist smiled. “Shall we?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The gladiator chuckled and took Optimus’s servo into his, making Optimus’s spark leap as Megatron began to walk along the path. “We shall.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything ready?” Jetfire asked, his voice a tad more on-edge than he’d intended. This had to be absolutely perfect and he - nor Grimlock, he hoped - would accept anything less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimlock pinned the last of the streamers to the wall and made a tut-tutting noise. “Patience, amica! We still need Hot Rod to show up with the energon and rust sticks, and besides,” the dino mech descended the crates that had been stacked to make a temporary ladder, “we have one more cycle until we need to bring Optimus over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire huffed. “I know, but it is better to have everything ready early.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hush, it’s not as if Optimus knows that this is happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech had to admit that his amica was right, but it still didn’t quell the well of impatience that he felt rising to the surface. He gave a frustrated sigh, creasing a corner of a banner he held in his servos, and looked around, at Arcee inflating balloons and Bumblebee and Windblade setting up the table for the gifts that various bots had said they would be bringing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack had said he would be bringing something. Jetfire hoped that whatever it was, it wouldn’t maim anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I was expecting a much larger affair,” came a voice that Jetfire absolutely recognized, but hadn’t expected in a thousand stellar cycles to hear in this particular situation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither did anyone else, it seemed. The other bots looked towards the entrance of the room and seemed to balk when they saw Sky-Byte hovering in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire felt his spark leap, despite himself. Over time, in this peace, he’d found his thoughts drifting to that one conversation he’d had with the other mech eons ago, playing it over and over again. He shook himself out of it. “Sky-Byte, how did you know-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shark mech flashed his sharp teeth in a wide grin that made Jetfire’s spark leap, again. Jetfire cursed his spark. “Perceptor and Dead End are </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> close, I’ll have you know,” he said with a wink. “I hear things, and I heard about this little affair going on. What is it called again? A sparkling shower?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that. Hot Rod learned about them on Earth and made the suggestion, so hence this,” Jetfire said, looking around at the party decorations. “I didn’t think something like this, full of Autobots mind you, would be something you’d be interested in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m always up for some new experiences,” Sky-Byte replied. “Now, it seems none of this is quite done. Where should I start to help?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire looked at the large banner that was dragging on the floor, held aloft partly only by him. He pursed his lipplates, and then held the end that he had in his servo out to Sky-Byte. “You can begin by helping me hang this banner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t expect Sky-Byte to look so eager as he took the offered end of the banner. Jetfire found his way to the other end of it and held up the corner, making sure that the banner would be readable and not twisted when hung.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Sky-Byte said as he held up his own end and Jetfire tugged them towards the wall, hoisting the banner up. “Why would it say “Welcome, Newspark” if Optimus is the guest of honor, and his sparkling is not here yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire paused, and then hung his helm. “Hot Rod suggested it, and none of us called it into question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph,” Sky-Byte replied as he kicked on the thrusters in his pedes and hovered in the air, prompting Jetfire to do the same so they lifted the banner off the ground. “This is why you philistines need someone with literary training in your group, so they could have saved you the embarrassment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Optimus is the literary one of us all, and we couldn’t show him this beforehand,” Jetfire said, fastening his end of the banner to the wall and looking to be sure Sky-Byte would do the same. “And I’m sure he won’t take it quite so literally like you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shark mech turned to him and winked. “I’m making a poor attempt at a joke. I simply wanted to get a reaction from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire said nothing, but tried to quash the heat that was rising to his faceplates. Getting a reaction out of him? Was Sky-Byte’s entire purpose for being here… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe this is now done,” Sky-Byte said with a demure smile that didn’t match the sparkle of mischief in his optics. He flashed his sharp dentae. “What else could I help with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking around the room, he saw that almost everyone was now done with their tasks and were milling around, chatting amongst themselves. Then, he noticed that the major component of this affair, aside from Optimus, was still missing. It was half a cycle until he would have to go get Optimus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire swore under his breath. “Hot Rod hasn’t arrived with the energon and rust sticks just yet. So no, there’s nothing to help with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small part of his processor hoped that Sky-Byte would take that as an invitation to step away, to leave perhaps, but still the mech stuck around. Jetfire realized it was a futile hope - of all the Autobots in the room, he was the only one that Sky-Byte really knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought of that conversation on that wandering moon, sole survivor of a destructive blast. Sky-Byte had shown him some semblance of compassion when those he considered friends hadn’t, and there had been something in that optic contact as the ceasefire was agreed on. Jetfire knew it had to be a projection of the confusing emotions that he felt most of the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The intensity of Sky-Byte’s stare upon him seemed to increase, and Jetfire looked at him. “How can </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> help you?” he said, with a tone of impatience in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other mech seemed to think his words over for a moment. “It may be crossing a line, but I was curious, regarding that conversation we had eons ago,” Sky-Byte said with a sniff. “Quite a testament to your character that you were able to put your hurt aside for your Prime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire stalled and stared at the wall, sighing. “It’s much further in the past than it was then.” He looked at the shark mech. “And I’ve since talked about it, finally, with my amicas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before either mech could continue, Hot Rod finally burst in, arms full with containers of energon and Wheeljack running in after him with haphazardly packed containers of rust sticks. “The fun has arrived!” Hot Rod shouted, big grin on his faceplates. He stopped at the snack table, deposited the energon, and then seemed to notice the outlier in the room as he stared at Sky-Byte. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte grinned and bared his dentae again. “I helped, somewhat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire then chose to interject. “He may not be the only Decepticon here. Arcee mentioned she may convince Shadowstriker to come by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her?” Hot Rod looked shocked. “Really? Didn’t think this would be her type of event.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did I,” Jetfire said, checking the time and realizing that he would need to start heading for the Hall of Records by now to get Optimus back in time. Taking another glance around the room to make sure everything was fine - which it was, save for the disarray of energon and rust stick containers - Jetfire headed out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent Sky-Byte a ping. ::If you wish to continue being useful, help Hot Rod arrange the table::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In all the time he’d been an employee of the Hall of Records, Optimus had only ever been in the Head Archivist’s Office a handful of times. It was an imposing room, made all the more so by the figure that occupied said office. In his processor, he could remember the layout of the office, with the large desk in the center and the glowing screens surrounding Alpha Trion, with the shades drawn over the windows that were to his right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The office had been located in the center of the complex, and therefore it had managed to survive the massive destruction that had taken its toll on the Hall. Optimus felt a little bit of trepidation as he ascended the stairs, slowly, and wondered why he felt such a way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been against the rules then to pay Alpha Trion a visit, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arrived at the looming doors, the intricate carvings weathered a bit, but still decipherable after all this long time. Optimus reached for the handle, stopped midway, and then proceeded, grasping the handle in his servo and turning it downward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened, and it was as if the room were simply waiting for Alpha Trion to come back. The drapes were still drawn, the console perfectly intact, datapads still lined the shelves, the chair pulled partway out as if the occupant had had to leave in a hurry and hadn’t had the moments to put it back in its proper place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, still open with the pages facing the tall ceiling, was the large book that Alpha Trion was always fiddling with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus made his way in, standing in front of the desk and tracing his digits over the surface. He prodded at the book, wondering if he should snoop and read it, and then decided to close it. The sound of the book coming together, after laying open for eons, echoed quite loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up at the ceiling, and smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be a long time before the Hall is fully restored,” he said quietly, hoping that wherever Alpha Trion was, that he could hear him. “Rest assured that I will do everything that I can to restore it to its former glory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no acknowledgement, even divine or supernatural, from Alpha Trion. There was no little chirp of a cyber-sparrow at that moment, or a glint of a datapad coming online, a sign from beyond this existence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was, however, the hefty kick of the nearly full-term sparkling in his forging chamber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know little one, there’s hardly room for you now,” he said gently, feeling her stir and feeling the little bits of irritation she flashed at him through their creator-creation bond. “You’ll be out soon, and there will be a wide open universe waiting to welcome you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but the sound of his voice - and, he suspected, the words “little one” - seemed to calm her down some. She gave another kick, less forceful this time, and then he felt a few more flutters before she settled in. He placed a servo on his swollen middle and then turned away from the desk, walking towards the windows and the drapes that hadn’t been opened in so very long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grasping the fabric in his free servo, he parted one of the curtains from the other, blinking against the sunlight that filtered through. When his optics adjusted to it, he peered out and sighed in contentment. From this point, high up over most of the other tall buildings of Iacon, Optimus could see the sun beginning to set over the horizon, and in the distance, the Manganese Mountains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron was there right now, building that home that they’d wanted all those years ago. He smiled to himself, thinking of how vague Megatron had tried to be about the entire situation, and how easily it had been for him to figure it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling the mental exhaustion, coupled with the physical exhaustion of carriage, settling in, Optimus closed the drapes and then left the office, giving the space a parting glance and smile as he closed the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he began to descend the spiraling steps, he heard a noise from further below.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus?! Are you here?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Jetfire. Optimus steadied himself against the wall and tried to hurry his descent as he sent the other mech a communication link. ::I was on the top level, in the Head Archivist Office. I am coming down now::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire acknowledged it, and when Optimus reached the lowest level, he ran into Jetfire, who had run to the bottom of the staircase and was waiting. There was an air of excitement around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus, I have something to show you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus felt a little flash of excitement course through his neural net at the prospect of something new. He smiled at his amica. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come, follow me. There’s no time to lose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. It was going to involve more walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus closed his optics and sighed. “I’m really quite tired, Jetfire, but if you insist that this be done now, then let us go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment of guilt passed over the shuttle’s faceplates, but then Jetfire seemed to shake himself out of it - much to Optimus’s quiet chagrin. He smiled at the shuttle mech, and then let Jetfire lead the way out of the Hall of Records.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire felt like he was going to burst and spoil the surprise, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to lie to Grimlock if Optimus’s reaction wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> as surprised as expected. He looked up at the stars, smiled, and then down at his amica.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quashed the little bit of sadness that rose in his spark, as he did every time he saw the light of happiness and anticipation in Optimus’s optics. Perhaps one cycle he might be able to be the same, a mate that doted on him as much as Megatron (oddly enough) doted on Optimus, and a sparkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t dare hope too much, however. If he hoped too much, he would only set himself up for disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it that you’re leading me to?” Optimus inquired, his voice breaking through the fog of Jetfire’s processor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech racked his processor for the excuse that he and Grimlock had agreed would be the most believable. “We found a stash of old relics buried just outside the construction site of the Council Chambers. They’re in a slightly more outdated language that I believe you might have a passing familiarity with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to pique the Prime’s interest. “What do the relics look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frag. They should have expected that he would be his usual inquisitive self and ask for more information. Jetfire looked straight ahead and tried to picture something in his processor. “Stone engravings, mostly, along with what seems to be an old goblet that’s quite cracked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still had a few more kliks of walking before this ordeal would be over. Optimus made a noise and then took a deep inhale, as if he were going to ask another follow-up question, until his brisk walking pace slowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus?” Jetfire asked, panicking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus reset his vocalizer. “There are no relics, are there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remembered your tell. You can’t meet my optics. Rather, you wouldn’t, when you were telling me about these relics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn that Prime, damn his amica for being so ridiculously perceptive. Jetfire’s shoulders sagged and he sighed. “There aren’t any relics. I needed to get you out of the Hall of Records.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stopped, and Jetfire stopped and looked back at the other mech. “Then, where am I being taken?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire couldn’t spoil the surprise. He racked his processor for another excuse that might buy him some belief, and stated what had already been said. “The Council Chambers, I told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but for what reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire couldn’t come up with anything remotely believable. He simply sighed. “It’s a surprise.” Then quickly added, “I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Optimus make a noise of uncertainty, but then Optimus began walking and passed him, and so Jetfire caught up so he could lead the way. He waited for the Prime to ask the obvious - what was the surprise he was being led to - but thankfully, Optimus seemed to know that he needed to keep it as such. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll need to make certain to sit down when we get there,” Optimus said, tiredness in his voice. “I’m finding myself getting exhausted far too often as of late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Optimus. If you’d like, I could try and carry-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I should be able to make it there.” He made a face, and then laughed. “She’s enjoying the movement, however.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire smiled. “What is she doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gave a faint smile, and his optics twinkled. “She’s stretching, and pressing her servos against the one I have here,” he replied, gently rubbing the side of his middle that he had one servo pressed against. “She’s also expressing her delight at me, over our bond.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bond?” Jetfire hadn’t read anything about carriage in, well, ages, and what he had read had been forgotten, all knowledge acquired and then lost in a haze of sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every creator has a unique bond with their creation,” Optimus said, voice happy and not at all showing that he’d been tired only moments before. “We can sense one another’s emotions and thoughts on a much deeper level than the bond between conjunx endura. Over time, it strengthens as the little one learns to speak and verbalize and recognize their own emotions. She’s… quite the happy little one, almost always content.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of one day having that brought Jetfire some joy. In the same vein, it pained him that he’d never gotten to experience that with his own little one. He wondered what she would have been like, had she ever gotten to that point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’ve mentioned you’re unsure if you’d love to try again, but if you do… I will do my best to provide as much support as you have for me during this time.” Optimus smiled. “Even if we did get off to a very tenuous start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire laughed gently. “I appreciate the words, Optimus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He continued leading Optimus to the destination, and imagined he could feel the excitement from the other bots as he drew closer to the Council Chambers. It was an amusing thought - he’d only seen the Chambers once, in the early courtship days with Starscream, but they had been so ornate and there had been an aura about them that commanded quiet and respect. Even if the occupants didn’t deserve it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never would anyone have thought it would be used for something like a sparkling shower. He thought about the more unpopular deceased Councilors screaming in the afterlife at how the chambers were being disrespected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we close? I’m… not one for receiving surprises, Jetfire.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good one, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m certain you’re being truthful,” Jetfire heard Optimus say as he guided the Prime towards the room he’d left only a short while ago, noticing it was dark. “But, I am always wary-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quite suddenly, the lights turned on, and Optimus jolted and seized the closest of Jetfire’s arms with one of his servos as everyone threw their servos up and joyfully shouted, “Surprise!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a nanoklik of silence, and then Optimus seemed to relax a little bit. Jetfire laughed and patted the servo that had seized his arm, before gently removing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave Optimus a few seconds to recover from the shock and looked at the table where Hot Rod and Wheeljack had deposited the refreshments, and was shocked himself to see how neatly arranged it all was. The energon containers were stacked on one another, forming a shape that Jetfire realized was supposed to be Optimus’s alt mode, while the rust sticks were arranged in the shape of…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire gave Sky-Byte a look. Sky-Byte playfully gave a wink and bared his dentae at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A Matrix of Leadership? Really?” Jetfire said, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot Rod responded. “Yeah I’m surprised he knew what it looked like. Doesn’t seem like a bot that would know much of anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte sniffed in indignation, and Jetfire found himself saying, “Hot Rod, shush,” before turning his attention back to Optimus. The Prime was looking all around the chamber, taking in the decorations, his optics landing on the banner that had been put up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What… what is this?” Optimus asked, finally speaking, his optics bright with curiosity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot Rod puffed out his chassis. “It’s a sparkling shower! The humans throw something like this when they’re having their own bitlets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arcee then spoke, one of her arms around Shadowstriker, who indeed looked quite out of place and clearly knew it, as she was withdrawn and looking suspiciously at everyone. “Rod told us all about it, and we thought it was a brilliant idea! Since, you know, first sparkling to be born since before the war started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus looked at everyone, and even smiled at Shadowstriker. He closed his optics, seemed to steel himself, and then reopened his optics. “Thank you, everyone. I appreciate all the hard work that was put into this, even though it was quite unnecessary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Grimlock made his way forward from the little crowd and lightly clapped Optimus on his shoulder struts, laughing. “Nonsense! It provided a good distraction for us.” The dino mech steered Optimus away from Jetfire, made him sit down, and offered him a cube of energon, and finally Jetfire was able to look at Sky-Byte for a prolonged period of time. “A Matrix of Leadership?” he asked, again, wanting an explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shark mech gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You asked me to help decorate, Jetfire, so I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he had. Jetfire grabbed a rust stick from the formation and watched Sky-Byte saunter off, and then caught Grimlock in his peripheral vision. He wasn’t sure if he liked the smug, knowing look that dino mech was giving him. Then, he got a ping on his communication link.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::Quite enamored with him, are we?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shuttle mech did his best to keep his face somewhat neutral as he stared at his other amica, and sent back a reply. ::No! What gives you that idea?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::You told Hot Rod to “shush” in defense of Sky-Byte. A stellar cycle ago, you wouldn’t have done that!::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was heat rushing to Jetfire’s faceplates, and he tried to hold Grimlock’s smug gaze and reply, but found that he had no reply. Instead, he decided to go another angle. ::You make a lot of assumptions::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimlock smirked and took a drink of his cube of energon. ::And my assumptions are often right. Remember Starscream?::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Right. He’d tried to keep everything on the down-low (at Starscream’s request - he should have realized that red flag eons ago, he thought bitterly) but Grimlock had read him like a volume of ancient myths. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>::You remember clearly:: Grimlock said, chuckling and gently clapping Jetfire on a shoulder strut. “The spark wants what the spark wants. I promise I’ll keep my comments to myself.” With that, he wandered into the circle of bots that were all crowding near Optimus, who was now opening some of the gifts that had been laid on the gift table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire watched as the Prime dug into a box and pulled out a contraption that </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Wheeljack’s doing. Everyone ooh-ed, and Optimus gave the engineer a quizzical look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wheeljack was all but beaming as he announced, “It’s a crib monitor! Two-way, so bitlet can hear you and you can hear bitlet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte brushed up against Jetfire, lightly startling the shuttle mech. “Are we going to watch him open all the gifts?” the shark mech asked, biting down on a rust stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire flicked one of his wings. “You’re free to leave at any time. We won’t keep you, but thank you for your assistance in setting up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I’m not leaving now! I’m just curious how he’ll react to my particular gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That piqued Jetfire’s interest. “Which is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A collection of poems. Not by yours truly,” Sky-Byte sniffed, “but by other poets from before the war. And don’t worry, I made sure they’re sparkling appropriate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire was somehow doubtful of that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having been something of a regular during a time when he and an archivist were planning a revolution, it was only a matter of time before Megatron finally showed himself at Maccadam’s Oil House. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End felt that flash of pain that had bloomed across his neural net when he’d taken a fist to his faceplate. He knew he’d deserved it, but that didn’t make it that much better. He tried to avert his gaze and looked at Perceptor, who was busy grabbing more energon cubes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Megatron-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Walked in,” Perceptor interrupted, a slight edge to his voice. “Yes, I can still remember the sound of his footsteps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End felt heat rise to his faceplates. “Right, I should have remembered. You know almost everyone’s footsteps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor held up a cube to the light, almost as if he really could inspect it. “Don’t give me too much credit. His are quite unique and can be heard from quite a distance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End sighed. “Just take the compliment.” He said nothing further as Megatron continued his approach, getting up to the bar. He steeled himself, and looked to his side and saw Megatron looking directly at him with his one functional optic. Resetting his vocalizer, Dead End said, “Lord Megatron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dead End,” was the reply, along with a nod of his helm. Megatron then turned to Perceptor. “Mid-grade. I’m too old for high grade now, and I have a construction project to return to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you wish,” Perceptor said flatly, grabbing an empty cube and filling it with mid-grade before either mech could blink a few times. He slid the cube Megatron’s way, and then backed up, getting back to whatever duties he had to take care of behind the bartop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an awkward few nanokliks of silence before Megatron sighed. “I came here to speak with you, Dead End.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With him? Oh no. Dead End tried not to let his surprise show on his faceplates as he followed Megatron over to a booth, grabbing an energon cube of his own on the way. When he took a seat opposite the other mech, Megatron gave a sigh. “It’s been close to half a stellar-cycle that I’ve spoken to you, and I should have done this eons ago. But, I apologize for how I reacted when you said that-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember what I said,” Dead End interrupted, something he never would have done a stellar cycle ago. “That was pretty crass of me, and I’m sorry.” Then, it hit Dead End that Megatron would never have apologized as well. He squinted at his former commander. “You told your Prime, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I told Optimus. Soft spark that he is, he encouraged me to apologize, and only now,” Megatron grumbled into his cube of energon, “only now did I finally decide to come and make amends.” He swirled the liquid around before taking a drink. “So, there you have it. I’m apologizing for punching you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End grunted and took a drink of his own energon. “To be fair, I deserved it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kept telling him that you did, but still he insisted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. Quite soft, isn’t he? Often hear from the Autobots that he can be far too forgiving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron looked like he wanted to be upset, but Dead End had spent enough time around his leader to know that the look in his optics was… not quite that. It was something he’d last really seen when they were in the Other One’s dimension, and when Megatron had managed to return not just with his life, but with a Matrix of Leadership of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Giddiness. That was the closest that he could come to naming that look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rarely does he show the exact degree of his anger, whereas I would simply explode at the first stirring of the emotion,” Megatron said quietly. “He’s so incredibly sincere that I doubted him for megacycles after we met - who could be so kind and want to understand, especially to someone like myself? Him. Only him. And still, after everything I’ve done,” he looked down at his servos and gave a bitter chuckle, “even still, he has given me a chance. Now, he’s given me two of the greatest gifts I’ll ever receive - the pleasure of his spark, and the sparkling he carries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End gave a snort after a half-klik of silence. “Primus, you’re so in love, it’s almost sickening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite so, but for him and for our little femme, I would move the stars themselves to keep them happy. I’ve trusted him with my spark, and he has trusted me with his, and there is a mutual agreement that we love each other so much that we dare not destroy the trust we have in one another.” Megatron chuckled into his energon cube. “This is the happiness I sought my entire life cycle. I cannot believe I have it, and now that I have it, Primus curse whoever tries to take it from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was an implicit threat in Megatron’s voice in the last few words that sent a little shiver up Dead End’s spinal strut. He took a drink from his energon and mulled over Megatron’s words, the grand description of the love he felt for the Prime, and wondered…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It was one-sided, not a two-way street the way it was with Megatron and Optimus. Still, he hoped in his spark that it could progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re thinking quite intensely.” Megatron gave him a measuring look, optic slightly dimmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End was uncomfortable with the conversation being turned to him, so he internally shrank into himself, and externally grunted. “It’s nothing. Just… thinking. If only we could all be so lucky like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s expression shifted, and Dead End saw the line of his former leader’s sight go somewhere past them. Then, a look of comprehension came over his faceplates. “The bartender?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not just that. Scientist, complete and total aft-kicker, no-nonsense. All that time I spent looking out for him during the Quintesson conflict just did something to me. Missed him while we had the wall up.” The words were out of his mouth before Dead End could stem the flow. He closed his optics and slid slightly down the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Great. He’d exposed himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And is there any particular reason you don’t believe you may get so “lucky”, as you put it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. I think he’s way out of my league.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron gave him a look that unsettled him, and then one corner of his lipplates moved, twitching upward so he was giving him a half-smile. “I was under the impression Optimus was beyond my grasp, even when our castes weren’t taken into account.” With that, he drank the last of his energon cube, tossed Dead End a few credits to cover his drink, and walked out of the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End looked at the credits in his servos, and curled his digits over them, twisting his upper half so he could look at Perceptor serving a duo of physical laborers that had just come in. They took their ordered drinks and made their way over to a booth on the other side of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here are your cubes,” Perceptor was saying, sliding the glass containers to the labor mechs, as Dead End approached again and took a seat. When the other mechs left to take a seat, there was a few kliks of tense silence before he said, “I’m flattered that you think I’m quite… what was it? Out of your league?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End’s spark stopped. He blinked his optics. “How-?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear everything,” Perceptor said, tapping the side of his helm. “And I must say, I thought you and I had opened up quite enough to each other over this past near-stellar cycle. I didn’t realize you may have had ulterior motives.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End legitimately wished the floor would open up and he would fall in so he wouldn’t have to have this conversation. He sighed and looked at the backs of the two laborers making their way out of the bar. “Well, if you heard, you know. So… what do you have to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor walked out from behind the bar to grab the empty energon cubes that had been left behind by the duo of laborers. He gathered them in his servos and then returned to his post behind the bar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perceptor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m debating how to say what I have to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that was all that Dead End needed. His shoulder struts slumped and he sighed. “You don’t have to let me down gently, just say it and I’ll-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a total rejection, I’ll have you know,” Perceptor said, tone very matter-of-fact. “I’m simply quite preoccupied with managing this place, and I told myself that I would not consider romantic entanglements until I felt I was more prepared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… a rejection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Perceptor replied, leaning over the bartop. “Because I have indeed felt the same sentiments for you as well, Dead End. If it were a rejection, that would mean I didn’t feel this for you. Think of this… more as a request to revisit this at a later date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Decepticon was… quite confused. This wasn’t anywhere near how he thought this would go, where the more pessimistic part of him felt that he would get a resounding “no” while the tiny optimist in him thought that maybe, just maybe, there would be a “yes”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… nothing I can do but acquiesce,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d long lost sight of the little turbofox, the impish creature nowhere to be found. He’d long lost track of the days as well, the sky brightening and darkening in intervals as he rested here and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was low on energy, but he didn’t know what to do about it. So, he took those rests</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly his memory was returning. It was all fractured, and he could make little sense of it all. Places, times, and faces that he knew at one point but now had no idea what they were. They still lived in his mind, however, so he knew they had to be important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky was getting bright again, and he felt the drag of his systems telling him to rest. So, he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another memory uncovered itself.</span>
</p><p><em><span>“Why are we here?”</span></em> <span>he heard himself ask.</span></p><p>
  <span>A large and mostly white mech that haunted a good number of his fractured memories smiled, but kept his optics on a thick line of blue on the ground before him, dipping contraptions that he didn’t know the name of. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You promised you would come with me to measure the pollutants in the river</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I thought it was going to be quick and just outside the city, not here at this measly little tributary out in the wilds.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The other mech laughed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Most of the other major rivers have been tended to by now, so this was the only one left. And remember that this river is still important, even if you do not think so. All rivers lead to the core, and so we must do our best to take care of what Cybertron gives to us.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He stirred and blinked his optics. It was still bright, but less so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All rivers led to the core. Whatever those words meant, he knew it was likely something vital. Perhaps he might find answers there.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And so I return with another chapter!</p><p>Time for some updates of sorts: I've been going through some health issues, some brought on due to the pandemic. Other IRL stuff has happened, and I will also be stepping back into my graduate program this upcoming fall. I had wanted to try and complete this fic before I went back to school, but with the way things have been going, the possibility is less so. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing fic though - it's one of my great joys. It simply means I won't be able to write as much as I would like to.</p><p>As always, I appreciate your readership and kudos and comments &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Wrath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh, what's this? You didn't need to wait over a month for a new chapter? Hooray!</p><p>I got bitten by the inspiration bug this past week and really wanted to try and get this chapter out. Against my better judgement, I have done so, late on a Sunday night my time. I really hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and I'll do my best as usual to try and not let the next chapter hang on for too long. As always, no promises.</p><p>Thank you for reading, and comments are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What is it that you’re trying to show me?” Optimus said, laughing, as he tugged at the blindfold that was over his optics as he steadied himself with his other servo, grasping the seat in the shuttle. He had a very good idea as to what he was going to be shown, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s excitement was evident in his voice as he said, “You’ll see when we get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Megatron, I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider this retribution for the first time you took me to the Crystal Gardens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Optimus had to admit that his mate had him there. He simply sighed and refocused his processing power on trying to alleviate the anticipation building in his frame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling seemed to be reading his anticipation as something to be afraid of. She seemed incredibly restless, sending her stressed emotions along their creator-creation bond. Optimus laid his free servo on his middle and tapped gently at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed to work. She calmed slightly, and tapped back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I allowed to guess what you’re trying to show me, at the very least?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron chuckled. “You’re allowed, but I will not be confirming your suspicions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it that home we discussed all those eons ago?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>How did</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Megatron cut himself off, but the surprise was indeed spoiled. He huffed. “Curse you, Prime,” he muttered bitterly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled to himself, incredibly pleased with the outcome. He relaxed and leaned his helm back against the headrest of the seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it that obvious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime hummed to himself, listening to the sound of the shuttle’s engines starting to slow as they evidently got close to the destination. “Soundwave mentioned you and he were doing physical work, and you did ask me a few times how many built-in bookcases would be sufficient.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron grumbled to himself. The shuttle came to a stop, and after a few moments of hearing Megatron step out of the shuttle, the door on his side of the craft opened up and he felt his mate gently grab the closest of his servos and guide him out.  He felt the blindfold come off, and then Megatron’s voice, low but excited, murmured, “Open up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus did so, and his spark stopped at the sight in front of him. He took a few moments to take it all in, and it was long enough that he felt his mate’s electromagnetic field shift from excited to anxious - something he wasn’t quite used to feeling from the gladiator.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did what I could, but if-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime turned and grabbed Megatron, pulled him as close as he was able to with the nearly full-term sparkling in the way, and kissed him. Megatron was shocked at first, his electromagnetic field stunned, but then the gladiator wrapped his arms around him and deepened their kiss. His engine rumbled contentedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus broke the kiss and smiled at his mate. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron smiled back, his optic dimming. “As do I, far more than you could ever comprehend.” He took one of Optimus’s servos, and gently guided him to the stone path leading up to the front door. Optimus looked at the facade and the doors, intricate carvings on them that looked very similar to the carvings on the front door of the Hall of Records. He ran his digits over them, and then Megatron swung the doors open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It opened to a large living area, with a sunken section set a little bit into the ground. Large, plush seats and couches took up the space, along with built-in shelves sparsely decorated with some familiar knick-knacks and a large console table with a metallic strip and buttons that he recognized as being a large holoscreen. In the very back were large windows, covered with heavy drapes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gladiator pressed his front to his back, raspy voice purring in his audio receptor. “Do you approve so far?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled and nodded, his spark incredibly full. “Will you show me around?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s engine rumbled contentedly, and he grasped one of Optimus’s servos in his and led him away from the living area to a room directly off of it, which Optimus recognized as being a small dining area, with the drinking table from the old place disassembled and reassembled here, and a pantry well-stocked with daily energon and cases of rust sticks and other energon treats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next stop was a sight Optimus had longed for for far too long. A study and library room, with what seemed to be his entire collection of tomes and datapads lining the shelves (and in their correct order as well, he noted) with a sturdy dark desk centered towards the back of the room, with heavy drapes covering a large window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus traced his digits over the ornament on the desk, a globe of Cybertron including its moons, all of which rotated. Small holographic screens, like picture frames he’d seen for the humans, were on the top of the desk with the globe, but they were empty, waiting for him to upload image captures of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always wanted a Hall of Records of your own,” Megatron said quietly from the doorway. Optimus gave the moons of Cybertron a gentle touch before turning to look at his mate as he continued, “I hope this is to your liking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime smiled and closed the distance between them, taking Megatron’s face into his servos and gently kissing him. “It’s absolutely perfect,” he said gently, assuring him. He gave the library a longing look, regretting that they should be parted so quickly. “Never did I think you’d remember my wish for my own library.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a sparkle in Megatron’s optic as he grasped one of Optimus’s servos in his. “I was so afraid this wouldn’t be to your liking. I’m happy that I did well.” Megatron then steered Optimus out of the library and to the set of rooms that were on the other side of the living area.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first stop was their berthroom, which was quite large. If Optimus had to guess, it was twice the size of the room he and Megatron shared at their previous place. Their berth had small windows on each side, and in the wall closest to the side that was usually where he slept was another door. He opened it and gaped at the size of the washracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right across the hall, was a second, smaller washrack, and directly next to it… Optimus knew in his spark what it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling’s berthroom was mostly empty, save for a few datapads on a small built-in case. Optimus looked around and could already envision how it would look when he was done decorating. Almost as if she were reading his thoughts, the sparkling kicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, little one,” he said quietly, stroking the curve of his middle. “I’m excited to begin work on this. Your sire did an amazing job, didn’t he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his side, out of the corner of his optics, he saw Megatron beam with pride. He brought up his servo, the one that Megatron still had a hold of, and kissed the back of the old gladiator’s hand. “Thank you. You didn’t have to, Megatron.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gladiator scoffed. “And have our precious little one grow up in such cramped quarters? I think </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not when they have the entire world open for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus laughed gently. “My place near Iacon’s center was just fine for the both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For three, it would have been rather tight, especially as she grows.” Megatron pulled him closer and kissed him. “Come, I have one more thing to show you, my spark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron led him down the hall again, and when he pulled aside those thick and heavy drapes at the very back of the living area, Optimus realized they were not windows. They were, instead, glass doors that led to a large patio outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mountain air breezed over them both as they stepped through the door frame, and Optimus gratefully sank into one of the seats placed outside, pedes aching even from just that brief tour of the place. He looked at the stars above, and felt his spark soar. In the distance was a line of large, jagged peaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One solar cycle, when you can stand on your pedes for longer,” Megatron said as he took the seat beside Optimus and wound an arm around him, kissing one of his helm fins, “we can go walk among the mountains. I remember that was one of your favorite activities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus smiled, thinking of the hikes they’d taken lifetimes ago, exploring caves and sitting at the top of a waterfall, marveling at the clusters of crystals that grew toward the sunlight. “One solar cycle,” he said, echoing Megatron, placing a servo on his middle and smiling when one of his mate’s servos covered his own. The sparkling moved under their combined touch. “I’m quite looking forward to seeing her face, and having my frame to myself again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile came over Megatron’s faceplates. “She’ll be the most perfect sparkling ever created, and the fiercest warrior, with the fiercest mind.” He nuzzled his helm against Optimus’s. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prime laughed. “I should be thanking you, my love. What are you thanking me for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron grasped one of Optimus’s servos this time, bringing it to his lipplates and pressing a kiss to it. “For loving me. For deigning to forgive me. And for giving us this chance to give a little one a better life than what we had.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus sighed and smiled at him, pressing his frame closer. A few more kliks of quiet followed before the Prime spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not deigning, Megatron,” Optimus said quietly, his optics bright. “Deigning implies that I loved you while taking our class differences into consideration, that I did you a favor by daring to love you. Never have I considered you to be beneath me, nor did it ever factor into the hows and whys of my love for you.” He could see in Megatron’s optics the depth of love and sorrow he felt. “I see that you want to be better. That is all that you can do, now that we are done fighting and that we will be having a little one. Be better.” Optimus raised one of his servos and placed it on the side of Megatron’s helm, stroking his beloved’s cheek with his digits. “I love you, far more than you can comprehend. I always have, and I always will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron’s optic dimmed. He leaned in and slowly, sweetly kissed Optimus’s lipplates. As it always did, Optimus’s spark fluttered and soared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come,” Megatron said gently, helping him to his pedes. “Let us go inside and rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rest. One of Optimus’s favorite words as of late. He followed the other mech inside, giving the stars and the mountains a parting glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rivers of his memories led him to a place that felt hauntingly familiar. A large temple of sorts, with many rivers meeting underneath the stone steps that led to said edifice. As he ascended the steps, his processor offered up yet another memory. It was a clip of only a few nanokliks, but he’d been here before. The large white mech featured again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always him. He wondered who he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what would be at the top of the steps. He felt hesitation coursing through his neural net, but his spark continued to urge him forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long corridor appeared at the top of the steps, tall ceiling looming overhead, the walls decorated in streaks of gold with luminous points of bright blue light scattered in no particular pattern.  There was nowhere else to go, no openings in this long corridor other than the light at the very end, so he followed it, running the tips of his digits along the wall, along the streaks of gold and circling the blue lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the hall, he found a large, mostly empty room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Empty, save for the glowing blue shape in the middle of the room, suspended between large points coming from both the ceiling and the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The closer he got, he heard whispers in his processor begin, and intensify. He couldn’t decipher what they said. It didn’t seem to be any language that he spoke, whichever ones he </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out and his digits touched the surface of the strange shape that beckoned him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he remembered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire, tall and white and the smiling face at the river, testing for pollution.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yellow scout, Bumblebee, and his conjunx, one of the two that got away, the Camien Windblade. Knives in his side, the both of them were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered more of them. Shockwave, Soundwave, Shadowstriker… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Megatron.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Optimus Prime</span>
  </em>
  <span> and his blasted Autobots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What had happened to him? He racked through the large flood of memories, going through many recollections of battles and near-death experiences, Megatron’s angry face and rough servos grabbing him by the neck or by a wing, throwing him about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt his hatred grow ever stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he landed on the memory. Airborne, his body not his own and shared by others, taunting and being taunted. About to offline Optimus, that blasted Prime, that blasted reason why Megatron could never end the endless war, and then suddenly he was silenced by twin beams of Matrix power.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Starscream grabbed the AllSpark and placed it to his spark, ignoring how everything that glowed around him went dark, only watching as glowing tendrils of light reached out from both his own life force and the planet’s life force.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his processor - or perhaps it was somewhere out in the ether, not in his processor - he heard a terrified voice scream in agony. He vaguely remembered the voice, and the bot attached to it, but paid it no mind as he closed his optics and felt the AllSpark become one with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would make them pay. Everyone that had distracted him and made him out for a fool, and then eventually, he would give Megatron and Optimus Prime exactly what they deserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered being able to create portals and appear wherever he wanted at a moments’ notice. He tried to do so, but found that he couldn’t do so from the Well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter. He had wings for a reason, and he would put them to good use.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing Optimus saw when he woke up was Megatron’s optic onlining at the exact same moment. Both mechs looked at each other, and then Megatron lifted himself off of Optimus’s frame, where he’d been laying half on the other mech’s top half, one of his servos gently splayed over the swell of the Prime’s middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something had woken them both. What exactly, was the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus sat up and hissed between his dentae, pained, as he heard Megatron answer what was clearly a communication request. He saw his mate raise a servo to the side of his helm, and Megatron spoke his half out loud for his benefit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soundwave? What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From within his chassis, Optimus felt the Matrix hum. It was very brief, but he placed a servo to his chassis and frowned, optic ridges furrowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does the security feed show? Yes, I’m trying to be patient but I want to know what happened!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus moved his servo from his chassis and reached over, placing it on the closest of Megatron’s servos. “What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron briefly removed the servo from his audio receptor and comm link. “Cybertron’s gone dark. The generators are keeping Iacon and Croaton City powered but Soundwave doesn’t know how much longer they can last.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Cybertron was dark…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The reason why occurred to Optimus at the same time that Megatron’s servo returned to his comm link, and the old Decepticon nearly-shouted, “The Allspark is </span>
  <em>
    <span>GONE?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Matrix reacted again, and this time the humming sensation didn’t quite go away. Optimus placed his servo over his chassis again and nearly parted the plates, intending to heave himself off of the berth and look in a mirror and try to see if he could see what was going on, but a voice told him to go outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron was still talking to Soundwave, which may have been the distraction needed for Megatron to not realize Optimus was up and walking out of the berthroom until he was bathed in light from something bright and blue that was hovering over the back patio. The Prime blinked his optics against the bright assault on his optics, briefly lifting a servo over his optics to block some of the light as his senses adjusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Optimus? Optimus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t answer Megatron. Instead, he opened the back doors, walking outside, and gave a soft gasp at the sight that met him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, glowing in the sky, a most unwelcome star fallen to Cybertron, was Starscream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus blinked his optics, and tried to stay calm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmph! Megatron got to work knocking you up fast, didn’t he?” the seeker sneered, his red optics flaring. “This complicates matters quite a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Starscream!” Optimus turned around and saw a confused, then angry, Megatron in the doorway between the back patio and the house. His mate immediately raised his cannon and fired, startling Optimus enough that his protocols briefly overrode the Matrix’s protocols that kept him in place, and he backed up so he and Megatron were side to side. He readied his own built-in blaster, firing at the same time as his mate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The seeker easily ducked the shots, laughing. “You couldn’t defeat me with those when you tried! What makes you so sure you can defeat me now?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An unspoken, ugly truth hung between them. The Matrix hummed in Optimus’s chassis, almost yearning to go into battle like it had before. But Optimus had nearly died back then. The sparkling shifted in his forging chamber, bringing him out of the unpleasant and horrible, incredibly visceral memory of him nearly offlining.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t. Not now. Why did it have to be now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Starscream seemed to sense the pain he was going through, as he hovered closer and made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsk</span>
  </em>
  <span> noise, clicking his glossa against his dentae. “Oh, thinking of how you’d love to use your Matrix against me? I know you too well - you wouldn’t dare do anything to </span>
  <em>
    <span>endanger</span>
  </em>
  <span> that little gremlin you have kicking around in there, you self-serving martyr.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron snarled. “Never will you address our sparkling in such terms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or what?” Starscream cackled. “You can’t throw me around by the neck like you used to! Every time, I tried and tried to win battles for you, and how did you repay me? By throwing me around!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus, through the fear in his processor and spark, arched an optic ridge and looked at Megatron, who didn’t look him in the optics, but Optimus later realized he would have to try and address it later. If later ever came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Megatron immediately froze, not of their own volition, and before he knew it, they were airborne and hovering in front of Starscream. The seeker sniffed, and it seemed like he was struggling to hold onto even the both of them in this state. “I still remember them all, those that distracted me and allowed you both to get the upper servo! They’ll pay, just like all of you. When I’m finished with them, well,” Starscream cackled, releasing them from the grip he had, “you’ll pay as well. Let’s see them guess where you are this time!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything happened fast. Optimus remembered a glowing portal, much like the ones that the Allspark created on Earth, but being unable to do anything because he was frozen, barely able to move. Then quite suddenly his back was hitting the ground, and they were no longer among the mountains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know where they were. He knew they were somewhere in the depths of Cybertron, as the flora and fauna were certainly not things commonly found on the surface level, but the exact location was a mystery. Optimus tried to sit up, and with the motion came a searing pain that ripped through both his lower back and his pelvic region.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron was immediately to his side, wincing and in clear pain from his own fall from the air. “Optimus? Sit up, are you injured?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus hissed through gritted dentae, trying to overcome the pain, and then managed to sit up with the assistance that his mate provided him in the form of holding a servo out. It hurt. Primus, it hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a self-diagnostic scan, focusing on injuries. It was a rudimentary scan that was nowhere near as in-depth as Ratchet’s scans would have been, but it was far better than nothing, given the lack of a medic nearby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scan pinged back at him. There was no physical damage, no breaks or fractures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My scans say I’m fine. Primus,” he sighed, placing a servo to his back and blinking his optics to adjust to the low light filtering through the large trees. “Do you know where we are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mate growled and looked around, then shook his helm. “No. My scans aren’t working. We have to find a way to the surface. Can you walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you could help me…” Optimus said, holding out a servo, his sentence trailing off as Megatron grabbed his offered servo and helped him to his pedes. Optimus swayed a bit, and then steadied himself by holding onto Megatron. He checked his internal systems, his built-in scanning device and his comm link. “My scans and my communication link are not working either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Megatron thought for a moment, and then sighed as he took Optimus by the servo and led him. “It will drain my power reserves, but I’ve activated my locating beacon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus got an idea, and it seemed that Megatron noticed the look on his faceplates. “I know what you’re thinking, and absolutely not, Prime.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Megatron, if we both activate our beacons, there’s a much better chance we may be able to get someone to locate us,” Optimus pleaded, trying to make Megatron see his point of view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, it seemed like Megatron was considering his words, but then the former Decepticon vehemently shook his helm. “That may be, but you are already low on power reserves by default.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus blinked and stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron scoffed. “Oh, I read the literature on carrying, so don’t look so surprised. Don’t turn it on, Optimus. I mean it. It is for your safety and for our bitlet. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus grit his dentae, then nodded, allowing himself to be led through the dark forests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first indication of something being wrong was the fact that the lights at Maccadam’s flickered for a moment before the noisy backup power supply kicked on, replacing the lively chatter that had gone quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second indication of something being </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong was the large explosion that happened just outside of Maccadam’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been unusually busy, as many of the construction projects in the immediate vicinity were at or near-completion, so bots were coming to celebrate their successes. The explosion stunned everyone in the bar, and then everyone - including Perceptor - rushed outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End was faintly amused. It wasn’t as if Perceptor could see the actual destruction that was happening. Nonetheless, he followed the other mech outside, grumbling to himself about how Perceptor had a death wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, outside in the main square that the bar entrance looked out towards, hovered something bright and blue. Just below said object was the smoldering remains of a large fountain that had only been finished and activated a solar cycle prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To his side, Sky-Byte and Jetfire both gasped. Jetfire said in a pained voice, “Oh Primus, not him. Not again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End wanted to ask what he was referring to, but then his optics focused better on what the bright and blue glowing object was. Only it wasn’t an object - it was a mech.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a mech that looked eerily like Starscream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mech then shrieked, an ugly cry that shook the sky and sent shivers up and down everyone’s neural net. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Starscream. Anyone could recognize that shriek anywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have come to deliver my wrath! Where are they?! Where are those fools that held me back?!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait for an answer, as Starscream immediately focused his blasters on the buildings that made up the perimeter of the main square. He fired, and the crowd that had been in Maccadam’s scattered, screaming in terror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dead End immediately grabbed Perceptor and pulled him back inside. “Come on. We’re going to the basement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor nodded, his face still towards the thick doors that were now shut. Dead End considered bolting them shut, but then imagined Perceptor would protest, in case anyone needed to duck in for shelter. “I heard Starscream. How? How is he possibly alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know,” Dead End grunted, tugging Perceptor towards the lift hidden in the back, “and not sure I want to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just his luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been enjoying their conversation over cubes of mid-grade, laughing at each others’ misfortunes and various hijinks during the war, and just when he’d been about to earnestly tell the shark mech that he was glad that they hadn’t killed each other after all, the explosion had occurred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was indeed just his luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire tried not to be selfish when considering the likely extinction event that was now staring them down. It was truly just his luck that this would happen right as he was going to consider seizing the day, and that was without taking into consideration the fact that this was his ex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, Optimus was not responding to the numerous communication requests that were being sent to him. By the way Sky-Byte was swearing, neither was Megatron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte peered over the overturned metal slab that they’d both taken cover behind, and then grumped and stared at him. “I thought we’d well gotten rid of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire gave the shark mech a flat look, and then rolled his optics. “As did I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another explosion occurred, this time slightly closer to their position. Jetfire winced, and then did a scan of the area. “We’re close to the central monitoring hub. If we can get there, we can try to locate Megatron and Optimus and see why they’re not responding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other mech looked a little bit dubious about it, but followed him anyway. Jetfire made sure that the way they took would only keep distance between them and the screaming, wholly unstable seeker in the sky. It was a much longer route, looping around a few large buildings, but they were able to reach the not-so-secret below-ground entrance by keeping low and making as little noise as possible. He opened the hatch directly on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, how do I know you’re not going to take this opportunity to murder me?” Sky-Byte said, arching an optic ridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire responded by shoving him into the hole, smirking at the way Sky-Byte yelped in indignation, and then jumped down after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fourth wave of pain ripped through his lower back and pelvic region, and Optimus doubled over, chassis heaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s sit you down,” Megatron said, grabbing him and guiding him somewhere. Optimus waited for the pain to subside, clenching his digits into his palms, and then when the pain did ebb away, he reopened his optics and saw that they were in a tiny cave, offering only a little bit of protection from the elements, but it was protection nonetheless. He curled against his mate, one of his servos gripping onto Megatron’s arm as an anchor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said weakly. “I don’t know why I’m reacting in this way. The scans didn’t indicate anything. I don’t know what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An expression came over Megatron’s faceplates, and he seemed to consider his words carefully before he quietly spoke. “The pain is coming and going. Could… Optimus, you be in emergence?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus stared at his mate, and then did a scan, focusing not on breaks or fractures but on anything related to carriage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The number blinked back at him, and his spark stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dilation: 18/100 percent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, the number shifted up a digit. He tightened the grip he had on Megatron’s forearm and looked at him with wide optics. The look on his faceplates apparently spoke volumes, as Megatron’s own optic widened and he immediately sat him on the ground, pressing him up against a wall of that tiny cave they were in. “Stay here. I’m going to try and get a signal out. Don’t move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus nodded, panting heavily and curling his digits into the ground. He leaned forward and hissed through gritted dentae.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why now? Primus, why </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling kicked. Optimus moved one of his servos to the swell of his middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry little one. I did my best to make sure you stayed safe, and I’ve failed you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lifted his helm and looked out at the opening of the cave, looking at Megatron desperately pacing back and forth, sometimes going out of the line of sight, as he yelled into his communication link.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one was answering. They were lost and unless someone thought to try and narrow down their locations using beacon tracking devices, they would remain lost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus closed his optics, accessed his internal systems, and did what he swore he wouldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only hoped they would be found before the sparkling came along. And, Primus willing, before he completely ran out of power and had to go into stasis to save himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the dim light of the central monitor room was a short and stocky figure that Jetfire hadn’t seen quite at this depth below the ground. He put an arm out to stop Sky-Byte from lunging forward, and called out. “Ratchet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet turned around, and then Windblade, Bumblebee, and Wheeljack peered from around a corner, their bright blue optics blinking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you four get in here?” Jetfire asked. He was at the very least quite grateful that it was fellow Autobots - he wasn’t entirely sure how he would have handled coming across only Decepticons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Windblade answered, folding her wings into her back. “I’ve been here before. I thought we should try to locate Megatron and Optimus, since Optimus isn’t answering any of our calls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thinking,” Jetfire replied, firing up one of the closest computer monitors and drawing up the holo screen. “Sky-Byte and I tried as well and got no answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone know where they last were?” Wheeljack asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire accessed the last message he’d gotten from Optimus, a simple message. “He and Megatron were last heading out to the mountains, where Megatron and Soundwave had been building that home for them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They should still have service out there,” Wheeljack scoffed as he hovered close to Ratchet. “I wonder why they’re not answering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My guess is Starscream got to them,” Bumblebee offered up. Then he realized the severity of his statement, and winced. “I hope he didn’t. Do you think he would have-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope he didn’t succeed,” Windblade replied, cutting off her conjunx. “I mean, I never hope he succeeds,” she deadpanned, “but especially right now. They have to be alive somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to find them, fast. If Starscream did something to them but left them alive, who knows what’s happening to Optimus,” Ratchet grumped as he tried to log into a console that kept rejecting his passcode. “He’s got anxiety issues and this will only make it worse for him and the bitlet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sky-Byte tossed a servo in the air. “I’ve accessed a console! I’m narrowing down Megatron’s location.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jetfire smiled as he managed to log in as well, and he got to work locating Optimus’s particular locating signature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… there!” Sky-Byte gestured excitedly. “Megatron is in the depths, directly under Polyhex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Jetfire gestured Ratchet over to his own screen. “Confirming Sky-Byte’s find. Optimus is with him.” He tapped the monitor, where two small yellow lights blinked. “They both have their locating beacons online.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good work you two,” Ratchet said. He immediately wandered to the large table in the middle of the room and stuffed an array of things - cleaning cloths, emergency energon rations, a handheld scanner - into his subspace. “Bumblebee, Windblade, Wheeljack, you three are coming with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No can do,” Windblade said, activating her wings. “I have to try and hold off Starscream from the air as long as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ratchet groaned. “Fine. Bumblebee and Wheeljack then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming too,” a voice said from the shadows of the monitor room. Soundwave walked into the dim light, visor shining. “I’m not going to let just Autobots have the fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone stared, and Jetfire wanted to ask why Soundwave had been lurking this entire time. He decided against it, as it would just waste time, and simply waved at them all as the grounders raced out of the underground room. “Go, hurry. We’re going to try and take on Starscream and hold him off as long as we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he and Sky-Byte and Windblade took to the skies, zeroing in on the fires in the center of Iacon, Windblade sent him a message. ::How can we hold him off if the only thing that can stop him is a Matrix? And Optimus is carrying and can-::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>::I don’t know, Windblade:: Jetfire interrupted, trying not to think of that particular scenario. ::But we have to try and hope something might work::</span>
</p><p>
  <span>.-.-.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dilation: 34/100 percent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus closed a servo around Megatron’s own, a tight grip, giving a pained cry and sobbing through each contraction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Primus. Primus above and below, Primus all around them, it hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All Megatron could do was watch him. His electromagnetic field was effused with sorrow and pity, almost as if he were wishing he could take Optimus’s pain and lamenting that he could do nothing to soothe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy, beloved,” he murmured, rubbing small circles on Optimus’s backplating. “Easy. What percentage are you at?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus gasped as the contraction ebbed away. “Thirty-four.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Megatron swore and didn’t speak what Optimus already knew. This was far too fast, and they would have to be found very soon. He got to his pedes. “I’m going to try to make contact again. Call for me when it comes back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Optimus nodded and watched Megatron walk out. He leaned against the cave wall and tried his best not to think about all the ways in which he’d failed. Not just how he’d failed his sparkling, but how he’d failed others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sparkling shifted in the forging chamber, sending nervous little flutters over their nascent creator-creation bond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry little one,” he said again, apologizing. “This was never how it was supposed to be. You should have been born either at our home or in a clinic, perfectly safe. Here…” he sighed. “You are not safe. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could do for now was wait for help to come, and he hoped and prayed to Primus that whatever Starscream could do in this period of entrapment would be able to be reversed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His systems pinged at him again, letting him know that his power was half gone. At best, he had two cycles left before he would need to go into stasis.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please. Please Primus, let us be found</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
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